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lubdubology · 23 days ago

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Til The Sun Turns Black

SYNOPSIS: Your soul is bound to his and you're destined to follow him across the multiverse. When the TVA finds you and sends you to the Void, you feel your chance of finding him has slipped through your fingers. But what you find there is more than you bargained for.

PAIRING: Worst!Wolverine x fem!reader

WC: 13.1 k I apologize for nothing

WARNINGS: smut 18+, mdni, mentions of drinking, angst, peril, some fluff, implied age gap (I guess?), mental trauma, miscommunication, Wade being Wade, dirty talk, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, cowgirl, missionary, cock warming, sex with feelings, unprotected p in v

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on Soft Edges! I was not expecting that kind of response when I posted that story, so thank you <3. I had the idea for this story in my head since after I first saw the movie. I had no idea my one random runaway thought would turn into this. Also, this story would not have been finished if it weren't for @joelsgoldrush. She let me tease her for WEEKS with this and act as the ultimate sounding board. And she's overall just a delightful human being and I'm so glad I've found her.

The TVA agent sits staring at you, an odd and uncomfortable smile on his face. Like he isn’t quite sure he knows how to smile but had seen it once on TV. You also don’t think he’s blinked in the past several minutes. It makes your eyes water just thinking about it.

“I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“Ah, yes, well—“ the agent clears his throat and smoothes a hand down his chest. “You’re a threat to the multiverse.”

You squint your eyes at him and wonder if you’re lucid dreaming. Or trapped in some bizarre fever dream, but you can’t remember being sick. “The…multiverse? As in, more than one universe?”

He nods once. “Precisely.”

It’s your turn to stare as absolutely none of this is making sense. The morning had started off normal—wake up, shower, coffee at your favorite local corner store. You had barely finished your latte when you were apprehended and taken to this bland room by a man who must own insane stock in eyedrops.

“You see, we’ve been watching you for quite some time,” he continues, oblivious of your growing confusion. “A handful of reincarnations, actually. And we believe we’ve finally pinned it down.”

His words sound insane.

You were a low level mutant at best. You’ve been able to deeply sense and influence emotions in others since you were six—a standard empath if there ever was one. But reincarnation?

“Reincarnations? I’m sorry but—”

You feel it coming then, that all too familiar prickle of deja vu creeping up your spine and setting deep in your brain. The room begins to soften, the corners blurring and you feel disjointed, separate from the you sitting in the chair.

“Ah, see. We’ve pinned it down.”

The world tilts on its axis and your mind explodes into brilliance, the memories of hundreds of alternate versions of yourself firing down your synapses, leaving you as raw and exposed as a fresh wound. The pain is all consuming as you gasp for air and desperately try to quell the throbbing in your skull.

Your hands grip the edge of the table, desperate to clutch at something solid to root you in reality as the kaleidoscope of memories swirl before your eyes, colliding and merging with one another. All the timelines converging down to a single point of existence within your mind. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve experienced this process, the return of your memories—the return of your consciousness—was always accompanied by a torturous sensory overload.

“You see? You have extensive knowledge of the multiverse. And that kind of knowledge is coveted and dangerous.”

Your vision blurs as the memories keep slamming into you and you can’t help the primal scream that rips from your lungs, the pain in your throat a welcome distraction from the torture in your head. And then, amid the chaos, a single figure emerges in crisp focus, a face you’ve seen thousands of times.

“Logan.” His name comes out in a whisper, your voice trembling.

You know he’s not actually in front of you and instead a mirage, a figment of your overloaded neurons, but his presence calms you.

“Yes, Logan. You two are quite fond of each other.” The agent stands and you squint up at him, wanting to be anywhere else as you regain your memories. “But never mind him. We can’t have you traipsing around with all that knowledge in your head.”

“No, no, no, please. Please just let me find him,” you beg, hating the desperation laced in your voice.

The last thing you see before being sent out of existence is his creepy, uncanny smile.

+++

The Void was bullshit.

It had been a month since you were unceremoniously dumped here.

Maybe.

You weren’t really sure.

Time had no meaning, each day seeming to stretch on for eons and simultaneously in the blink of an eye. And for every single one of those moments you’d been focused on one of two things: finding a way out and not dying.

You quickly learned you had a better chance at survival if you stuck to the outskirts and avoided others. So you squirreled yourself away, sheltering in an abandoned cabin and hoping beyond hope you could figure out a way out of the desolate cesspool you found yourself in.

Figure out a way back to him.

Back home.

+++

You don’t venture out unless you have to.

The Void is full of phantom emotions left behind by its previous inhabitants and the cacophony overwhelms you. Rage, terror and despair so thickly envelope every surface you feel like you’re choking. It’s beginning to wear so harshly on your nerves you wonder if you might actually go insane here.

There was a tension growing in the Void. You’d heard whispers of unrest within the factions, Cassandra hungry for something to sink her teeth into. The undercurrent of rage has increased in the last couple of days and it’s enough to set your teeth on edge.

Stuffing a backpack with a few essentials in case you get stranded, you ready yourself for a supply run. The thought of leaving the perceived safety of your cabin has little appeal, but you’ve been putting it off for far too long. There was a small cache only a few miles from your cabin that other survivors kept stocked with extra provincials. You were hoping for something good, anything other can canned food or cereal. Or Spam.

Tightening the straps on your backpack, you take one last glance around before stepping out into the forest. It’s eerily quiet, no birds or animals chattering to fill the silence, just the crunch of your shoes against fallen leaves. The Void has always felt oppressive to you, the air just a little too heavy, but there’s something lingering today that makes you feel on edge. Your skin prickles with anticipation and you pat your belt for the knife you’ve stashed there.

Just in case.

You’re half a mile away from the cache when you feel it—the inky slick of anger. It catches on the air and wafts towards you in waves. You slow your steps as you approach the road and come to a halt when the battered van comes into view.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You’d recognize those claw marks anywhere.

Your heart races as your eyes trace the deep, jagged cuts gouged into the metal and the large swathes of blood coating the ground and what you can see of the interior of the van. Instinctively your hand tightens around the hilt of your knife and you crouch down low behind a fallen log. You scan the area for any signs of movement and find none, but you know Logan is stealthier than you and wouldn’t give up his location willingly.

The van door creaks open on its battered hinges and you inhale sharply as Logan stumbles out of the vehicle covered in dried blood and sweat and more knife wounds and bullet holes than you can count.

The sight of him ignites a spark of longing that blooms in your chest and makes you physically ache. You can feel him. Your lips remember the hungered warmth of his mouth against yours, the way he’d nip at your bottom lip so you’d open up for him. Your skin remembers the calloused rasp of his hands and not just the greedy grabs when he needed to claim you, but the light brushes of his fingertips against your palm as he held your hand, just to remind himself that you were real. Your nose remembers his scent, woodsy and clean, like the earth after rain.

Shaking your head, you push down the memories and peer back over the log. A slight breeze wafts through the air and you watch as he sniffs, his head turning in your direction.

“Fuck,” you curse lowly, trying to crouch further out of eyesight.

You hear the metallic snikt of his claws and your pulse quickens. There’s no point in hiding—he knows you’re there. You take a slow, steady breath before attempting to focus waves of calm in his direction, hoping to ease some of the anger wound around him.

His eyes lock onto yours, sharp and predatory and he shakes his head, trying to keep you out. “Who the fuck’re you?”

You draw back your power and raise your hands in surrender as you slowly rise to your feet. You toss out your name and silently hope for a spark of recognition. But he doesn’t know you. Not yet.

“It’s not safe out here alone,” you start, moving out of your hiding place. You walk towards him, his eyes following your every move. “There’s a cache just up ahead—”

The atmosphere shifts without warning, the anger you’d felt previously now melting into thick, cloying fear and desperation. You can taste the ozone and the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end as electricity sizzles across the sky. Glancing up, you see the dark, swirling mass of Alioth just beginning to form.

You look at Logan, panic racing along your nerves. “I promise I’ll explain everything to you later, but I know you, Logan, and right now I need you to trust me.”

Alioth’s presence is getting stronger and drawing closer, and every drop of tension and rage swirling within is beginning to weigh down on you, threatening to suffocate you.

Logan’s eyes narrow, but there’s a slight twitch in his jaw and you know he’s considering your words. His claws retract, but his muscles remain tense, coiled and ready to attack. You grab for his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin and the hard muscle beneath your fingers. “We have to go. Now.”

For a moment, you think he might resist. But then with a low curse, he follows you, his stride matching yours as you lead him towards the cache. The trees blur by, the wind picking up and beginning to toss leaves and loose branches into the air.

You’re operating on pure adrenaline and your heart pounds in your chest as you run, Alioth gaining speed and distance faster than either of you can move. Each gasp of air burns your lungs and your muscles ache with the effort of your sprint.

Still a quarter of a mile away from the cache, you know you won’t be able to outrun Alioth. The storm has consumed the sky, the sun diminished to twilight, as the thunder and groans loom ever closer. You turn towards Logan and yell, “It’s too close, we’re not gonna make it!”

Logan’s eyes flash with anger as you stop and turn towards the oncoming destruction. He grabs for your wrist, pulling you almost nose to nose. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls, chest heaving with the effort to breathe. “We can’t stop!”

His proximity briefly disarms you, his fierce gaze igniting something deep within you, but you don’t have time to dwell on those emotions. You take a deep breath in an attempt to steady your nerves. “I’m gonna try and calm it down.”

“What are you going to do, think happy thoughts at it?” he asks, his tone biting and sarcastic.

You know every cell in his body is begging to fight, aching to release his claws and tear Alioth apart with his bare hands. But this isn’t something brute strength can subdue.

“Just trust me,” you plead, your eyes searching his for some indication that he believes you. “Please.”

His stare is hard, but eventually his eyes soften and he loosens his grip on your wrist. “Fine.”

Tearing your gaze from him, you turn back towards the storm, now a full blown maelstrom of anger and destruction hellbent on consuming you both whole. You exhale slowly, pushing your own emotions of fear and panic as far down as you can. Instead, you turn inward and concentrate on every feeling of peace, calm and stillness you’ve ever experienced and project it outwards. Waves of soothing energy pour from you, an almost ghostly aura emanating from you as your power continues to grow. Alioth continues to surge towards you, the wind now flattening trees to the ground and lifting debris high into the air.

The fight is excruciating, every cell in your body shaking with effort as you continue to project outwards, the sphere of your influence growing. When the two opposing masses collide, you’re almost knocked off your feet by the force. You’re vaguely aware of Logan beside you, claws unsheathing as he steps closer into your protective shield.

For a brief moment, you feel the power of the storm ebb before it seems to press into you harder. Your knees begin to buckle and your stance slips. “I…I don’t know if I can hold it!” you gasp.

Logan doesn’t run but instead moves closer, giving you one solitary nod. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, feel the doubt swirling behind them and yet he stays besides you, ready to fight.

His silent encouragement is enough.

You are not dying in the fucking Void.

Gritting your teeth, you continue to push. A guttural scream rips from your throat as black spots dot your vision and blood drips from your nose. You dig down, channeling every last drop of your energy into a final wave, extending yourself deep within the core of the storm.

The black of the storm begins to retreat and the wind begins to calm. As the first few beams of sunlight filter in through the treetops, your vision fades completely and the world goes black.

The last thing you feel is a pair of strong arms wrapping around you before your mind goes blissfully blank and unconsciousness claims you.

+++

You wake up in the cache.

Dust motes dance in the sunlight streaming in through the broken windows. The light is soft, definitely not the early morning glow from before you left the comfort of your cabin and you wonder how long you were out. With a groan, you try to sit up. Your body is stiff, every muscle in your body aching with the effort you took to banish Alioth. Wincing, you swing your legs out of the makeshift bed, the effort taking your breath away and you can feel the sickly creep of nausea climb up your throat.

A low voice cuts through the haze. “Take it easy.”

Logan.

You blink, trying to adjust your eyes to the light and find him sitting on the floor, one leg pulled up to his chest as a bottle of whiskey hangs between his fingers. He takes a long pull and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“How long was I out?” you ask, your voice hoarse.

Logan doesn’t answer immediately. He reaches over at a box beside him and then rolls a water bottle towards your feet before he finally mutters, “A day.”

You accept the bottle with a nod of thanks. Taking a slow sip, you close your eyes as the liquid soothes your throat even as your body protests the movement. You’ve never used your powers to that degree before. Fuck, you didn’t even know you could. A perverse sense of pride licks at the edge of your exhaustion.

Lowering the bottle, you breathe deeply in an attempt to settle the nausea rolling in the pit of your stomach. You glance at Logan and find him watching you, his eyes sharp, calculating.

“You owe me some answers. You said you knew me.”

You meet his gaze, the weight of his words pressing down on you. After hundreds of encounters with different Logans, it was never easy explaining to him what you were. For a long time, you didn’t even have a name for it. All you knew was that your consciousness, all your memories, everything that you are moves across different universes and inevitably crosses paths with Logan. It always felt like an invisible string, guiding your soul to his.

“I’m a temporal nomad.”

Logan’s eyes narrow as he glares at you. “A temporal what?” His tone is laced with skepticism.

You take another sip of water, giving yourself time to gather your thoughts and push away the throbbing at your temples. “A temporal nomad. I don’t die, not in the way you think, anyway.”

Logan doesn’t move, but you see his grip tighten on the bottle in his hand, his knuckles going white. “You tellin’ me you’re immortal?”

“No, not immortal,” you reply, exhaling slowly. “When I die, my consciousness moves. I reincarnate in a different universe. Eventually I regain everything—my experiences, my memories, my feelings. It’s why—” you pause and take a deep, steadying breath. “It’s why I always find you.”

Your words hit their mark and Logan’s eyes flash with something you can’t quite decipher—shock, disbelief, maybe some anger. He sits up straighter, tipping the whiskey bottle to his lips without breaking eye contact. “You always find me?” he asks, his voice a low rumble. “We’ve met before?”

“I’ve lost count of how many time, actually,” you admit softly. “But in every reality, every universe, I find you. And we’re not just friends, Logan.”

Your words linger in the air between you and your heart pounds loudly in your chest. Logan stands suddenly, the now empty whiskey bottle clattering to the ground. He runs a hand through his hair before scrubbing it down his face, his jaw clenched as he paces within the small space. A mirthless chuckle escapes his lips. “This smells like bullshit, sweetheart.”

Your heart aches at his use of the word sweetheart. It’s one he’s always preferred for you, usually spoken with reverence, like a prayer falling from his lips. Except now it’s casual and cold, something with a sharp edge instead of softness.

“I know how crazy it sounds. Believe me, Logan, it took me several lifetimes to wrap my mind around it.” You stand, your legs wobbly with the effort and you wince against the pull in your spent muscles. “But I know you.”

His expression hardens. “Yeah? Well, I don’t know you. And if you really knew me, you’d know to stay the fuck away from people like me.” Logan’s pacing grows more hurried, his hands clenching into fists.

“I can’t,” you say softly, taking a tentative step closer towards him. “And I don’t want to. While I might not know the Logan in front of me or the nuances that make you different from the others, I know you.”

His nostrils flare and he lets out a low growl. “Stop.”

“I know the way you fight,” you continue, ignoring his warning. “I know the way you carry your pain as if no one else can possibly shoulder that weight. I know—”

“Stop!”

“—how you push people away to protect them, but that deep down you hope someone will push back. You may carry a lot of self loathing, Logan, but even you know you’re not heartless.”

Logan’s fist slams into the wall behind him, the sound reverberating in the small room. He stands there, chest heaving, his knuckles bleeding from where they made contact with the rough wooden planks. You watch as the raw skin knits itself back together, his head hanging low.

His jaw clenches as he wipes the blood from his hands, his breathing still ragged and posture rigid, itching for a fight. He glances over at you, his expression softer but still rough.

“We’re done here,” he growls, but his voice soft, more broken than angry.

Logan turns without another word and all you can do is watch him leave.

+++

You spend the rest of the morning dozing in bursts of fitful sleep, your confrontation with Logan taking its emotional toll. Your eyes burn with unshed tears and for the first time in your life, you feel as if you’re destined to wander this universe alone.

But you can’t think about it.

Not now.

Ignoring the ache in your limbs, you pack up what supplies you can and ready yourself for the walk back to your cabin. The sun is a couple of hours from setting, the world bathed in golden light, when you set out. Walking down the steps, you pause at the distant crunch of boots on the gravel. You feel your pulse thrum in your chest as the sound gets closer and then he steps into view, his eyes locking onto yours.

Logan.

The sight of him standing there fills you with a rush of conflicting emotions. Relief, angry, anxiety and you’re not sure if you trust yourself to speak first. He looks the same—tired, disheveled, but steady and strong all the same. Neither of you moves, unspoken words hanging between you.

“I shouldn’t’ve left,” he says finally.

For a moment you say nothing. Because it’s exactly what you want to hear from him. Except, because you’re beyond exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally, you say, “No, you fucking shouldn’t have.”

There’s definitely more bite in your tone than you intended, but the release of some of your pent up anger feels so good you can’t bring yourself to care.

Logan’s eyes narrow as you move past him and keep walking. “Wait, so I come back here to apologize,” he begins, following close behind you, “and now you’re gonna just walk away?”

“You know, you never even thanked me for saving your ass,” you say, side stepping a downed log. “Just started demanding answers and then tucked tail and ran when you didn’t like what I had to say.”

He grabs your wrist and you stumble into his grasp, your breath hitching in your throat as you stand almost chest to chest. “I didn’t fucking ask for any of this!”

His anger bleeds into you, curling around your skin where his fingers press into your pulse point. You feel your nostrils flare and you’re itching for something to hit as you stare up at him, his jaw clenched. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest and you know you need to reign in your emotions or you’ll ignite the fuse between you.

“You think I did?” you ask, pulling your arm from his grasp. Your voice is calmer, but just as sharp. “You think I want to relive the grief of mourning you over and over while also finding something new to love about you? You think I wanted to be banished to the Void all because my soul just can’t die when I do?”

Logan’s expression softens and he scrubs a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look. I’ve had a shitty coupla days here. And you’re saying a lot of shit I don’t understand.”

He seems weary, then, and any remaining anger you harbor towards him dies in your veins. You take a deep breath in and blow it out slowly. “You don’t have to understand right now. Just—just trust me. Please?”

You hate how your voice breaks just a little.

Logan nods then, the barest tilt of his head, but it’s enough.

He continues to follow you through the woods back towards the cabin and for a while neither of you speak. It should feel awkward, especially now, but it doesn’t. You’re so used to his brand of stubbornness and reluctance to see what’s right in his face that this is the most at home you’ve felt since you got here.

“So,” you start after a few minutes of silence, “how did you end up here?”

Logan huffs. “Some asshole in red spandex dragged me here and I said I need to help save his universe.”

“And can you?”

His step falters and you pause to look a him, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the trees. “I couldn’t save mine.” The weight of his words linger, heavy with a burden only he alone has been shouldering. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he brushes past you and keeps walking.

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask, catching up with him.

Logan growls. “No.”

“Alright, maybe later then,” you reply and he simply ignores you and keeps on walking. “Where’s this asshole friend of yours?”

“I left him tied up in the van.”

You had long passed the spot where you found Logan by the beat up van and the road was deserted. Based on the subtle smirk on his face, you figure Logan already knows that. Whatever his relationship is with the stranger, he seems somewhat happy to be rid of him and you don’t push him further. Although, you can’t help but wonder what happened to the van and whose hands it fell into.

Logan’s gait slows as the cabin comes into view through the trees. He follows behind you as you clear the space, checking for any stragglers that may have come along while you were gone. Pushing open the door, you watch as he looks around, taking in the small space.

“You’ve been living here?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it living, but sure,” you comment, throwing your backpack on the table as you sit down. You can’t help the groan that escapes your lips as your muscles relax. “You can stay here if you want. I didn’t just let you follow me for your sparkling personality, you know.”

Logan actually laughs at that as he sits down on the small couch. His face lightens up, eyes crinkling just a bit at the corners, and for the first time since you found him, he seems unburdened. A blossom of hope grows in your chest and you grasp onto it, holding tight to the one bit of light you’ve had in this month of darkness.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

You know he means for more than the offer to stay and you return his smile with one of your own. “You’re welcome.”

As the sun starts to dip below the horizon, you bring out some extra blankets and a couple of pillows and help Logan turn the couch into a makeshift bed. You turn to leave when you hear him ask, “You really find me in every universe?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds terrible.”

You give him a small smile as you lean against the doorframe to the bedroom. “Oh, it’s not all that bad. I get to fall in love with you all over again.”

+++

You wake in the middle of the night to the sound of low, panicked growls coming from across the room.

You quietly slip from the bed and tiptoe towards the couch. Logan writhes beneath the sheets, pain etched across his face as he wrestles the demons in his sleeping mind. Taking a deep breath, you center yourself and focus every fiber of your power in his direction, hoping the waves of calm can break through whatever battle he’s fighting deep in the recesses of his mind.

Logan growls deep in his throat, the sound guttural and raw, his claws unsheathing and tearing at the sheets beneath him in agitation. A fine sheen of sweat beads along his brow and pieces of hair are plastered against his damp forehead.

“Logan,” you say softly, trying to break through the fog of his nightmare. “You’re safe, Logan.”

Your powers are waning, the stress of fighting off Alioth having left you depleted. You push down the ache, the tug in your brain demanding that you draw back, and instead kneel down in front of him, trailing your fingers across his palm and over the pulse point in his wrist. He jerks at your touch, his claws coming close to your skin, but the contact is enough and you feel his pulse slow beneath your fingertips.

You continue to speak in hushed tones, your voice barely above a whisper. “There you go, Logan. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Logan’s breathing is ragged, his eyes squeezed shut. You can feel the tension in his body, his muscles rigid with the need for release. You keep your fingers against his wrist, your touch steady and calming, as you bring up your other hand to smooth the lines along his brow.

“There you go,” you continue to murmur, “Focus on my voice. Focus on my calm.”

Gradually, his growls subside and his breathing begins to even out as the nightmare loses its grip over him. His muscles lose their tension and relax and the frantic movements of his limbs subsides. With one final deep breath, he stills, his claws retracting and he settles back into a peaceful sleep.

You sit and watch him for a minute, taking in all of his features and simply admiring him for the first time since your last life with him. This Logan is different—they all are in their own way—but this one a little more than the others. He seems wearier, more worn down, his usual scowl lines etched deep. There’s an exhaustion in his eyes, too, you haven’t seen before and you wonder if this Logan actually ever rests.

As you stand, you feel his fingers circle loosely around your wrist and give a small tug. You look down to where he’s touching you, his skin hot against yours, and you glance up to find him staring at you through half lidded eyes.

“Stay.” It comes out in a low whisper and as you open your mouth to protest, he adds, “Please.”

You could never deny him in any universe.

The couch is barely wider than he is, yet he shifts to make a sliver of space for you to slot yourself into. It should be awkward, the way you press yourself between the couch and the solid warmth of his frame, but it’s not. You hitch your leg over his hip, forcing your legs to tangle, as you rest your head against his chest. His heartbeat is strong and comforting beneath your ear and you find yourself quickly relaxing into his touch.

As you fall asleep, you feel his arm curl around you, tucking protectively against your ribs.

+++

When morning breaks, you’re alone. The warmth of his body is gone and you find yourself shivering. Pushing to sit, you wrap a blanket around yourself before standing up.

The cabin is empty.

You try and ignore the sliver of panic that threatens to slip its way down your spine.

Opening the front door, you pause when you find him sitting on the dilapidated porch, staring absently out at the trees. He glances up at you and watches as you sit down beside him. You hug the blanket closer around your shoulders and sit with him in silence.

You don’t mention last night.

“So,” you start, “what’s the plan?”

Logan raises his eyebrow. “You planning on stickin’ with me?”

“If you let me,” you reply with a smile.

You listen as Logan explains the events of the past couple of days, including Wade’s abduction of him from his own universe and how they both became to be bloodied and battered in the van. Your ears perk up when he mentions Paradox and returning to Wade’s universe.

“You think he can actually get back?” you ask, willing yourself to not hold onto too much hope.

Logan huffs. “Probably not.”

“And yet you’re out here trying to think of a way to find him,” you say. “Why?”

A frown tugs at Logan’s mouth and he looks down at his hands. Eventually, he reaches into the pocket of his suit and pulls out a crumpled Polaroid. He tilts it towards you and you look down at the group or smiling people. “He’s got something to go home to,” he says, thumbing the edge of the photo. “I got nothin’.”

There’s something soft in his gaze as he looks down at the photo, some lingering hope he’s too afraid to put words to.

“I’m sure you have something, Logan,” you say quietly.

His expression hardens then, jaw tightening, as he slips the photo back in his pocket. “Had. Past tense.” Logan stands then and looks down at you. “Get ready. We’re leaving in five.”

+++

You get ready quickly, changing your clothes and splashing water on your face before making sure your pack was sufficiently stocked. You were hoping you wouldn’t be needing it for much longer, but you didn’t want to express that thought out loud. Despite Logan wishing to go back to find Wade, you knew he wasn’t convinced this would end well.

Logan’s already started down the path as you jog down the cabin steps, swinging your pack up onto your shoulders. Catching up with him, you hand him the Pop-Tart you pulled out earlier. “Breakfast? They’re unfrosted, because this is the Void, but it’s something.”

He looks down at you, a strange expression on his face, but he accepts your offer. “Thanks,” he says, taking a bite.

“So, where exactly were you headed when you both decided to maul each other silly?” you ask, keeping pace with him as you walk through the woods.

“Johnny had mentioned a resistance out in the Borderlands,” Logan answers, swallowing the bite of Pop-Tart. “Figured we might find some people who could help us get control over Cassandra.”

You nod. “You’re not far from the Borderlands. Maybe four or so miles from he cache. I haven’t ventured out that far, but I’ve heard there’s a few outposts where others have hunkered down.”

“Then that’s where we go.”

You walk in comfortable silence, leaving Logan to his thoughts as you travel further away from safety and into the unknown. You stop at the cache briefly, pausing only snag a few water bottles before moving on.

A couple of miles past the cache, Logan suddenly stops, sniffing the air. His posture goes rigid, on alert as he slowly moves forward, beckoning you to follow him. A few yards away, the beat up van comes into view, parked alongside a lodging that looks as if it was built into the very earth itself.

Logan’s arm darts out, stopping you. “Stay close,” he commands quietly, stepping cautiously closer towards the structure.

You follow behind him, every sense on alert as you step inside. The place is quiet, but then you hear it—the soft rustle of snoring. And then Logan’s soft, “Ah, fuck me.”

Peering over his shoulder, you find a sleeping Wade spread eagle on the bed. Logan side steps the bed, ignoring the sleeping man, and begins rummaging through the place. Finding a bottle of whiskey, he groans in delight, twisting the cap off and taking a long pull.

“Really Logan?”

He quirks an eyebrow at you, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “What else would you like me to be doing?” he asks, biting.

“You came all this way to find him and now you’re gonna just drink?” you ask in disbelief. It gnaws at you, his indifference. You can feel little frissons of indignation licking at your skin and you have to tamp down your emotions before they bleed into him.

Logan shrugs. “He’s asleep. I ain’t draggin’ him anywhere.”

You cross your arms, glaring at Logan in frustration. “I didn’t follow you here to watch you stand around and get drunk. Wake him up.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, his brow furrowing. You don’t relent, your stare pointed as he takes another long pull from the bottle. Muttering to himself, Logan makes his way over to the bed and gives it one swift, forceful kick.

Wade jolts awake with a loud, exaggerated snort. He looks between you and Logan, his eyes finally settling on you. “Who’re you?” he asks, looking around as if expecting an answer. “When did the script get rewritten?”

You look at him quizzically, your eyebrow raised. “Who are you talking to?”

Wade huffs. “The audience,“ he says, gesturing towards the wall.

“Does he do this often?” you ask Logan in a whisper.

“Hasn’t stopped since he fucking dragged me here,” Logan replies.

Your attention is diverted as Wade suddenly rolls from he bed, crossing the room and two large strides. He unsheathes one of his katanas, pressing himself against the wall and then he’s pinned on the ground as a woman pulls a blade of her own. After a moment, she lets Wade up and two more people follow into the room behind her.

Logan eyes each one with suspicion as introductions are made and you can feel the tension growing within him as he continues to drink.

You jump as Gambit uses one of his playing cards to burst the bottle of whiskey in Logan’s hands. Logan ignores your pleading look and Wade’s admonishment as he grabs another bottle with a soft, “Boo boo boo.”

When Laura enters, you feel Logan’s interest pique, something heavy weighing on him. They both look towards one another, taking each other in and you don’t miss the recognition in Laura’s eyes.

“Do you know her?” you ask Logan, sliding closer to him.

Logan shakes his head. “No. But Wade’s Logan does.” He takes another long drink from the bottle, eyes still trained on her.

Wade continues to talk with the group, recapping their time in the Void and how they managed to escape Cassandra’s lair. Logan punctuates the conversation with vitriolic quips of his own, drinking more as Wade tries to get the group to form a team.

You try to send your power Logan’s way, trying to bleed into him some calm, but he shakes his shoulders and brushes you off. “Don’t fucking bother, sweetheart.”

“I can help you, Logan.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for it.”

As Wade rallies the group into a cohesive unit, gaining their support in taking down Cassandra, Logan huffs a bitter laugh. “You’re all fucking dead.”

“Oh, my god, read the room,” Wade chides.

+++

Logan storms off, one bottle of whiskey fisted in each hand. You want to follow after him, but Wade stops you. “Let him go, cupcake. Peanut’s in a fragile state and you’re too pretty to become mincemeat.”

You shoot a glare at him and brush his hand away from your shoulder. “No, he only seems to sink his claws into you,” you bite back, but the anger leeches from your voice.

“Spicy,” Wade comments, “I like you. The script editor worked overtime on you, I can tell.”

“Yeah, well the jury’s still out over here,” you say, but you can’t help the twitch of a smile tugging at your lips.

You glance over at the door and feel Wade sidle up beside you. “Seriously, cupcake. Chasing after him is like trying to catch a raccoon with rabies. Might be fun, but it’s not worth the bite.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, peering over at him, “And how long have you known him?”

Wade pretends to look down at his wrist and taps a non-existent watch. “Four days, six hours and thirty-two minutes,” he says with a smirk, “but I don’t really like to put a timestamp on friendship."

With a groan, you plop down on the bed and rub at your temples. “Is everything a joke with you?”

“Mostly,” he chirps with a grin. He leans back against the wall and crosses his arms as he watches you. “But I have been known to press pause occasionally.” Wade regards you for a moment, a slight tilt to his head. “Honey badger does it for you, huh?”

Sighing, you lay back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. “I have followed Logan through millennia, Wade. I can’t remember a time anymore where I haven’t loved him.”

“His mutant dick that good, huh?”

You half laugh, half snort and shoot him a pointed look. “Not everything is about sex, Wade.”

“Agree to disagree,” he says with a shrug. “We’ve all got emotional baggage, mine is definitely over the free to fly limit, but that guy? Literal mountains. Centuries worth, even.”

“Exactly,” you say, sitting up. “I’ve helped him carry more than you can imagine. Logan may push people away, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need someone to stay.”

Wade cocks his head, considering your words and his expression softens. “You know running after him isn’t going to fix him.”

“I’m not trying to fix him,” you reply. “He just needs to know someone is there for him.”

“Well, it’s your funeral, cupcake,” he says with a sigh. “I promise I’ll give a really moving eulogy. But, I do think if anyone is gonna convince tall, dark and brooding out there to join us, it’s you.”

You give him a soft smile as you stand. “Thanks, Wade.”

“And just so you know,” he calls after you, “I’m open and willing to being your mutant dick rebound.”

You roll your eyes and walk out the door.

+++

You step outside and see Logan sitting by himself in front of a fire not too far from the lodging. Walking quietly, you stop when you see Laura approach him and sit along side him. You’re close enough that you can hear their words—hear Logan tell her about the suit, about how he found the X-Men, his friends, dead.

The anger, the loathing, this Logan carries comes into focus and you can’t help but wonder how long he’s lived with this weight upon his shoulders. Suffering alone with only the bottom of a bottle to quiet the thoughts that scream in his mind.

As Laura eventually leaves, she catches your eye and gives you a small nod.

You feel a strange kinship with her. She too has memories of a Logan who no longer exists and who is radically different from the one she has now. You wonder what she’s thinking and have half a mind to follow after her when you hear Logan call out, “I know you’re there.”

You turn back towards where he remains sitting in front of the fire, the whiskey bottle now more than half gone. Closing the gap between you, you sit down alongside him and watch as he continues to stare down into the fading fire.

“How much did you hear?” he asks, taking a large swig from the bottle.

“Enough,” you answer simply.

Logan grunts and takes a long pull from the bottle, his lips glistening as his swallows get sloppy. “Well, now you know. I’m the worst Logan,” he almost spits, his tone dark and bitter. “You drew the short straw with me, sweetheart.”

“You know I don’t think that,” you say softly.

Logan doesn’t respond and instead finishes the rest of the whiskey, tossing the bottle somewhere behind him. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he looks over at you. “You actually gonna join them tomorrow?”

“Are you?”

“It’s a fucking suicide mission,” he answers. “You want to walk up to your death, be my guest.”

“If you’re so convinced this is a suicide mission, why don’t you want to go?” you counter, his ire beginning to bleed into the space between you and creep uncomfortably along your skin. “You afraid you might come face to face with actual death and realize that’s not really what you want?”

Logan’s gaze flicks up to your face, his eyes dark, dangerous. “You’re fucking pushin’ it.”

“Good! Someone fucking should be!” you exclaim, standing from the fallen log. Maybe Wade was right—maybe this was futile. In every universe Logan could be a stubborn ass, but this one was particularly obstinate. “Do you really believe you’re so unredeemable, Logan? That you’re just a vile mutant who doesn’t deserve sympathy after his friends were brutally murdered?”

You can feel his rage boiling just under the surface of the thin veneer of calm. His eyes pierce into you, pinning you in place as he stands to his full height, his fists clenched tightly.

“You don’t know shit about me, sweetheart,” he growls.

Anger simmers in your veins, threatening to burn you from the inside out. “Oh fuck you, Logan.”

He takes a step closer, his eyes narrowing as his lips curl into a cruel smile. “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Me sinking into your cunt while you picture whatever version of me you think I am.” His voice is a low rumble, adding to the tension threatening to suffocate you.

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, and it isn’t desire that courses through you, but rage. Your skin prickles and his vitriol ignites something deep within you, something hotter and brighter than you’ve ever felt before.

“After all this time and everything I’ve told you, you honestly believe that’s all I want from you? You’re a fucking pathetic asshole,” you snap, your voice sharp and laced with venom.

Logan’s expression darkens, the smirk slipping from his face as his jaw clenches. “You got some balls sayin’ that shit to me,” he spits.

A small part of you is terrified of him, afraid that he might actually snap. Might actually unsheathe his claws and send you onto your next life without ever having truly lived this one. But you know him, you know him. His pain and rage isn’t towards you, but himself.

You risk a step closer to him, narrowing the space between you and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, mingling with your own fury. “Yeah, well at least one of us has a pair.”

Logan doesn’t have time to react before you channel your powers towards him, unleashing an explosive burst of energy that sends him staggering back. And then you smother him, smother him in thousands of years of memories, thousands of years of every single feeling you had ever felt for him in every universe you’ve known him.

The weight of your emotional onslaught brings him to his knees, but you keep pushing, switching from your feelings for him to his feelings for you. All the affection, all the love, all the comfort the two of you shared in every version of your coupling across space and time floods his mind.

You watch as his expression melts from anger into one of overwhelming vulnerability and pain. His hands, still clenched into fists, tremble beneath the weight of your power surging through him. He looks up at you then, his eyes pleading and your resolve breaks. Tears burn in your eyes and trail down your cheeks, wetting your lips as a scream rips from your lungs.

Your hold on Logan dissipates as you reign your emotions back under control. You stagger on your feet as your power diminishes, your chest heaving with ragged breaths and broken sobs. You can’t look at him, not yet. If you do, you might actually break. So you do something that you never thought you would do—you leave.

+++

Night in the Void is cool, almost bordering on uncomfortable like everything else in this godforsaken place, but for once it doesn’t bother you. You gaze up at the sky, the haze of distant stars and planets blurring together the more you try and focus on just one.

You’ve always loved looking at the stars. There was a comfort in knowing you could look up at the sky and see the same constellations in every universe, that there was always one constant among all the variables.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting before you hear the crunch of his boots on the earth, dried leaves and twigs snapping under his heel. Logan joins you on the ground, sitting with a heavy sigh. The maelstrom of emotions swirling within him bleeds into the space between you and you can feel it, thick and heavy and suffocating.

You risk a glance at him and he looks…defeated. His eyes are red-rimmed and raw and you see something in those hazel eyes you rarely see—fear. Not fear at you, although your guilt would rather have you believe that, but fear of himself, fear of feeling what you’ve shown him. Logan’s breath is slow, controlled, but you can hear the slight tremor in it.

“I promised myself I would never use my powers on you” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know what it feels like to experience that onslaught. It feels like drowning.” Your voice cracks and you fight to keep the guilt burning in your chest from consuming you whole. “And that was just a fraction of what we’ve felt across lifetimes, Logan.”

Logan stays silent but gazes at your face, eyes flicking across your features, drinking you in. The scrutiny makes you shiver. Before you isn’t The Wolverine, the X-Man people in his universe loathe, but a man left raw and vulnerable.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says slowly, his voice rough as the words are pulled from him. “You shouldn’t have shown me that.”

You flinch, the weight of his words are a punch to your gut. “I know,” you whisper, wiping tears from your eyes. “I know and I’m sorry, I—”

Logan cuts you off with a shake of his head, his eyes now locked onto yours. “I already knew, sweetheart,”he murmurs, his voice low. “You feel like—you feel like home.”

Your heart stutters in your chest and for a moment you can’t breathe. The words hang between you, heavy and raw, the sound of them something you’ve been craving to hear.

“I am your home,” you reply softly.

Logan shifts beside you, closing the space between you as he slips his hand behind your neck and pulls you in. His mouth crashes to yours, his kiss urgent, rough and desperate.

You reach for him, gripping his shoulders as you kiss him back, the Void slipping away. There’s only the heat of his mouth, the rough scrape of his beard against your skin, the way his other hand tugs at your waist in an attempt to pull you closer.

It’s messy and intense and you don’t want it to end. Logan kisses you like a man starved, like you’re his last breath of air.

A whimper falls from your lips as he finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You’re both breathless, his nose softly nudging yours.

“Please come with us tomorrow,” you whisper against his skin. “Let me take you home.”

He nods once and that’s all you need.

+++

The morning comes quicker than anyone would like.

Nervous energy bleeds through the group, everyone knowing they’re on the precipice of life or death, that this may be the last day they ever inhale air into their lungs or feel the warmth of the sun on their skin.

Logan’s quiet, already tucking into Gambit’s liquor, as you sit down beside him. He looks down at you briefly, taking a long long pull before offering you the bottle. You take it from him and take a swig of your own, the amber liquid burning a path down your throat.

“What are you thinking?” you ask, handing him back the bottle.

He stares down at his feet, swirling the liquid around in the glass. “I honestly don’t even fuckin’ know.”

You reach for his hand and give him a comforting squeeze. He stares down at you for a moment and then drags his gaze up to your face. “Whatever happens Logan, I’ll be right there with you.”

Final preparations complete, everyone piles into the van, you tucking alongside Logan in the hatchback. The ride is mostly quiet, punctuated only with the few occasional quips by Wade just to ease the tension. You brace yourself, gripping Logan’s calf as Blade sends a rocket launcher through Cassandra’s front gate and Elektra floors it through the explosion.

The others leave the van first, forming a line of defense. You look up at Logan and lean forward to press the faintest of kisses against his lips. His fingers curl around your neck and pull you closer, deepening it just enough to taste your mouth.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, pulling back. “Stay by me.”

You swallow hard, loathe to let him go, wanting to stay in the perceived safety of the van, but you simply nod and follow him to join the others.

Fighting erupts all around you and you stick as close to Logan’s back as you can. It’s a symphony of chaos—rage, fear and determination all swirling heavily in the air. You feel your power thrum underneath your fingertips as you channel those emotions back towards whoever Logan is fighting, hoping to disarm them—even if temporarily—with their own vitriol in an attempt to give him an advantage.

The air burns in your lungs as you move through the fight, your mind spinning as you gain distance towards Cassandra’s lair. You can see the others move around you—Elektra and Blade slicing down enemies with their blades; Gambit disarming others with his explosively charged playing cards; Laura fighting in a style all her own, yet so much like Logan’s; and Wade cutting down others like he’s having fun.

A clear path opens up to the ramp leading up to Cassandra and the others swarm behind you, allowing yourself, Wade and Logan to break free from the melee. Logan looks back at you just long enough for you to see the fear in his eyes. You try and remain stoic, even though your mind is racing with all he the ways this could go wrong, and give him a small nod of encouragement.

You stop short in front of Cassandra as she sits sipping tea, seemingly disinterested in the battle happening just outside her stronghold. “You two escaping I could live with, but coming back willingly…” she trails off, “Boys are so silly.” Her eyes dart towards you. “And you brought a friend!”

“I just need to get home,” Wade says, his tone serious.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option.”

Cassandra flicks Wade aside effortlessly and Logan’s instantly on alert, claws extended at his side. You attempt to direct your powers at her, trying to defuse the anger simmering below her surface. She rolls her neck and glances at you, intrigue in her eyes.

“Oh, aren’t you interesting,” she says, effortlessly flicking your powers aside. “I wonder what treats you have hiding in that mind of yours.”

Cassandra steps closer to you, her calculating stare flicking over your face. She lifts one hand up to you and from behind her, Logan growls and moves to attack. You watch, powerless, as she pins Logan to the ground with his own claws.

She tsks and looks down at him, “That’s enough out of you.”

And then, she’s in your mind, every nerve ending in your body on fire, ready to consume you whole.

You’re standing in a library, Cassandra at your side. Shelves extend as far as the eye can see, fading into an infinite distance. You walk aimlessly along the shelves, pausing at the entrance of a room simply titled “Logan”.

“Oh, now this is something,” you hear Cassandra say from beside you. “This is quite the collection you have.”

Your fingers reach out and touch the spines, the briefest flickers of memories emanating from their covers. “I’ve known him for so long,” you murmur. “Been with him through so much.”

You pause in front of one book, the urge to open it nearly overwhelming. Pulling it from the shelf, the pages flutter open and you gasp, the memories of that life flooding your brain.

You and Logan were married in this life. He worked a simple job, construction. There were no X-men, no missions, no danger. He kept his mutation a secret, showing only you when the memories got too rough, too unmanageable. You were his anchor. You had two kids—girls. And oh, how he loved them. Both of them wrapped effortlessly around his heart from before they were even born.

Tears spring to your eyes as the warmth of those memories flood through you. “I loved that life,” you whisper, putting the book back on the shelf.

“And who wouldn’t?” Cassandra agrees, placing her hand on your shoulder. “So effortless his love for you. So different from now.”

You glance over at her, confusion drawn on your face. False empathy tugs at Cassandra’s sympathetic smile. “Are you even sure he cares for you now? This Logan is so broken, more broken and unloveable than all these other Logans, hm?”

Shaking your head, you try to resist her efforts to batter you, to convince you your soul’s purpose is not worth it. Not worth him. “That’s not true. They’re all worthy. All capable and deserving of love,” you say, your fingers trailing along another spine. “Even this one. Especially this one.”

Cassandra’s face contorts then and…

She’s wrenched from your mind and you fall to your knees, blinking up as you see Wade holding Cassandra from behind, one hand holding Jaggernaut’s helmet to her head.

Your mind still spins as Logan and Wade confront her, their conversation a jumble in your mind. But you don’t miss her saying either they kill her, or she kills them. Finding the strength to stand, you rise and place your hand on Wade’s arm.

“If I stay,” you start, focusing only on Cassandra and ignoring the press of Logan’s gaze into your skin, “Will you let them go?”

Logan reaches for you and you pull your gaze from Cassandra long enough to press your palm against this chest. You meet his eyes, silently pleading with him to let you continue.

“Will you?” you repeat, unable to keep the pleading out of your tone.

Cassandra laughs bitterly. “You love him that much? To sacrifice yourself to save him? That Logan, out of all of them?”

You nod, feeling the tears burn in your eyes. “I love him that much,” you reply softly.

Logan grabs your hand then, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t,” he chokes out, voice thick with unspoken emotion, “Don’t do this.”

You smile softly as you reach up and cup his cheek, his beard rough against your palm. You don’t miss the way he briefly nuzzles into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he sighs. “I love you, Logan. In all my lives, in this one and in the next one, too.” The first tear slips down your cheek as you look up at him. “I promise I’ll find you again, Logan. I always do.”

You press a kiss to his mouth, soft and gentle. It lingers for a moment, a desperate, bittersweet exchange as Logan tries to memorize the feel of you. His hands grip your waist, clutching almost hard enough to bruise, but you relish the pain.

Wade stands beside you both, uncharacteristically silent, his hands still holding Cassandra in place. His usual banter is gone, the weight of the moment not lost on him. “This is the worst fucking idea anyone has ever had,” he mutters, but his tone is soft. “And I’ve had some pretty terrible ideas.”

Cassandra regards you with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “If I let them go, you’ll stay here with me in the Void. Be my ally.”

You nod, “Yes.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrow, calculating, weighing her options. Finally she sighs, “Fine. But you know…no one will remember this little sacrifice of yours. The next Logan won’t even know you.”

Logan growls and you squeeze his hand in gentle reassurance. “It’s okay,” you whisper, your voice finally breaking. “I’ll remember enough for the both of us.”

You step away from Logan, your heart shattering with every step. Wade lets go of Cassandra and you feel the weight of your decision settle heavily against your shoulders.

Cassandra pulls something from her pocket, slipping it onto her fingers. Before you, a portal opens up, just outside the boundaries of the room. Outside, the raging storm that is Alioth grows near and in that moment, you realize Cassandra was playing a game of her own.

“I figure,” she says, straightening the lapels of her jacket, “that they have approximately four seconds before they’re through.”

Your eyes flick to Logan and you memorize every detail, every emotion written across his face. With one final nod, he tears his gaze from you and he runs towards the portal, Wade alongside him.

And then, darkness consumes all.

+++

You’re unsure how long you’ve been out. The last thing you remember was Alioth screaming towards you, giving you barely enough time to cocoon yourself from his rage.

Cassandra is gone.

Wade is gone.

And Logan—Logan is gone.

You open your eyes and find Remy standing above you. He offers you his hand and helps you to stand. “C’mon, chère,” he says, nodding towards the open portal behind him, “Let’s go home.”

You’re not sure where home is any more, not without Logan, but you don’t have the strength to argue. From the moment you wound up here in the Void, you’ve been looking for a way out. Now that you have one, you know you need to take it.

Accepting Remy’s hand, you join him through the portal.

You stumble into a familiar room and are greeted warmly by a smiling TVA agent. She’s unlike the first TVA agent you met, her presence comforting as she says your name. “We heard you’ve had quite the adventure.” She looks over towards Remy. “Mr. LeBeau, if you’ll follow this agent here.”

Remy leaves with he other agent, turning towards you with a wink. “Enjoy your man for me, yeah?”

Your heart flutters in your chest and you look towards the agent, trying to suppress the hope you feel in your chest. She smiles and rests a comforting hand on your shoulder. From her pocket she pulls out a small device, pressing a few buttons on the pad. Before you a different portal opens and she gestures towards it.

“Welcome home.”

+++

You stand in front of the apartment door and hesitate before knocking. Your nerves flutter uncomfortably in your belly even though it’s been less than two days since you last saw Logan in the Void. But you’re out now—you both are—and the fear nags at you that maybe this isn’t what he wants. That you aren’t what he wants.

You stuff that thought down with a shake of your head. Raising your hand, you rap against the door three times and let out a shaky breath. When he opens the door, you feel as if the air has left your lungs and you forget to breathe. Your heart aches at the sight of him.

Logan stops short, his face falling into one of pure disbelief and all he can do is stare at you.

“Is that my stripper?” you hear Wade call from farther into the apartment. Logan continues to stare at you as Wade pops up behind him, his face lighting up in surprise. “Oh, hey cupcake! Didn’t expect to—“

“Get out,” Logan growls, turning his head slightly in Wade’s direction, his eyes never leaving yours.

From over Logan’s shoulder, Wade wiggles his eyebrows. “Ah, looking for some afternoon delight?” he coos, slinging his arm over Logan’s shoulder and patting his chest. “This guy has been jerkin’ it constan—“

You hear the sknit of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe into Wade’s thighs. “Ah, fuck! Fuck!” Wade curses. “You’re supposed to be penetrating her, not me!”

“Get. Out,” Logan repeats, retracting his claws.

“Fine.” Wade pushes past Logan’s frame, limping slightly as his wounds heal themselves. “You’re lucky Blind Al’s already out playing Bingo. Or selling herself for blow. I don’t actually know her schedule,” he comments as he walks down the hallway. “Glad you’re home, cupcake.”

Logan barely waits until Wade is out of sight before tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling you towards him. Your gasp dies on your lips as he drags you inside, shutting the door with his foot and pushing you up against the rough wood. Then his mouth is on yours and it’s warm and wet and wonderful.

His hands cup your face, fingers moving to tangle in your hair and you feel him everywhere. You whine as he nips lightly at your chin before trailing his lips back up your jaw, licking into your mouth as he kisses you deep.

Your fingers scramble for purchase, fisting themselves into the fabric of his button-down flannel.

There’s a desperation and urgency bleeding from him, as if he can’t drink you in fast enough, or hard enough, or long enough to satiate the longing that’s within him. And you’re feeling it too, an ache growing deeper in your belly, a need to be consumed by him fully and you whine into his mouth because he’s not nearly close enough to you.

A thigh slips between your legs as he kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, a moan falling from your lips as you greedily seek friction.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Logan husks against your shoulder, pulling your hips harder against his clothed thigh.

Your hands cup the sides of his face, your fingers scratching lightly against his beard. You force him to look at you, his pupils blown wide. “I always come to you,” you say softly. “I always come home.”

He kisses you softly then, his mouth slow over yours and he drops his thigh from between your leg. You whine at the loss and he pulls back. “C’mere,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you further into he apartment. “I’m not fucking you for the first time against a door.”

You follow him to the bedroom, your chest heaving with ragged breaths and you can feel the prickle of anticipation along your spine as he turns back to look at you. His eyes never leave yours as he shrugs off the flannel and pulls his t-shirt over his head. Your eyes trace the lines of his chest, the strong definition of his muscles, following the line of hair that leads to the top of his jeans. As you bite your lip, you hear his chuckle, “My eyes are up here.”

“Mmm, yeah they are,” you start, tugging your shirt off and shimmying your pants over your hips, “but the view down there is nice, too.”

Logan reaches for you, his large hands skimming over your hips, over the flesh of your ass and under your thighs, lifting you up and forcing your to wrap your legs around his waist. With an easy flick of his fingers, he’s unclasped your bra and you toss it aside with the rest of your clothes.

Kneeling on the bed, he lays you down, kissing his way down your stomach, his nose nuzzling along the top of your panties. “Do you have any fucking idea how sweet you smell?” His mouth is hot against your skin and he laughs as you tilt your hips up towards him. “You want me to fuck you with my tongue? Lap at you until you’re seeing stars?”

Molten desire shoots down your spine and you can feel the slick between your thighs. God, the mouth on him was going to be the death of you.

You prop yourself up onto your elbows and look down at him. “Just fucking touch me already,” you whine, and you hate how desperate you sound. “Haven’t we waited long enough?”

He presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to your inner thigh before dragging his nose along the center of your clothed cunt. You inhale sharply as he kisses over your clit before trailing his fingers along your hip bones and pulling the fabric down. His warm hands palm along your thighs and he opens you up, staring down at you with hunger in his eyes. And then his mouth is on you, his tongue licking a hot stripe through your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan as his mouth continues to lap at you, pleasure tingling low in your belly and spreading through your limbs.

Logan hums. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted, sweetheart.” His tongue dips down, collecting the arousal at your entrance. “I could die happy between these thighs.”

You trail your hands down over your chest, briefly palming each breast before you continue down and sink your fingers into Logan’s hair. His groan rumbles through you and you don’t miss the way his hips start to rut against the mattress, seeking friction.

His mouth and tongue continue to move over you, long, slow licks punctuated by gentle sucks and flicks over your clit and you can’t stop the grind of your hips against his face. You feel his smirk against you as one thick finger finally sinks inside your walls, nudging that spot deep inside that makes you squirm.

Another finger slips inside you and a low whine spills from your lips.

“You’re beautiful like this, you know that,” he says, voice rough, thumb replacing his tongue against your clit as his fingers continue pumping. “All blissed out and needy and desperate to come on my fingers.”

His words zip through you as he fuck you with his hand and you bite your lip. “C’mon,” he purrs, “let me hear all those pretty sounds you make.”

Soft whimpers spill from your throat as he continues to work you, that pull in your lower belly growing stronger and stronger. His hand never stilling, he kisses his way up your body, pulling a nipple into his mouth and then you’re coming, cunt clenching around his fingers.

Logan licks into your mouth to steal your cries as he continues to work you through your orgasm. Your thighs clamp around his forearm, the pleasure overwhelming.

He finally stills, pulling his fingers from you and you whimper at the loss. You watch through half lidded eyes as he licks his fingers clean of your slick and you feel that flame reignite in your belly.

“Take your pants off,” you demand, breathless, pushing at his chest.

Logan laughs, but allows you to push him onto his back. “You always so bossy after you come?”

You fumble at his belt, undoing his buckle and unzipping his jeans before shoving them down his hips. “Make me do it again and find out,” you taunt as his cock springs free.

He kicks his pants the rest of the way off and you sit back on your heels and admire him for a moment. Your eyes trail from his broad shoulders, down the contours of his chest and follow that line of hair down his stomach to between his thighs, where his cock stands, thick and ready.

“I will never get tired of looking at you,” you sigh, raking your nails down his thighs, deliberately not touching him where you know he wants it the most. “You’re so beautiful, Logan.”

Whatever response he has, dies in his throat as you finally wrap your hand around his cock, giving him one long, firm stroke. He’s hot and heavy and you’re aching to feel him inside you. But not yet. Leaning down, your eyes meet his and you trace your tongue along the underside of his cock, tasting the salt on his skin.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Logan curses, unable to stop the thrust of his hips, chasing your mouth.

You wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue over the slit and collecting the precum there before taking as much of him in your mouth as you can. Logan hisses through his teeth, fingers winding their way into your hair to help guide your movements.

“You’re so warm and wet, sweetheart,” he groans. “But I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

You give him one last stroke as you release him from your mouth and climb up to sit on his thighs. Logan pulls you forward by your hips and you gasp as your cunt slides across his cock.

“Line me up,” he instructs and you obey without hesitation.

Gripping him in your hand, you guide him to your entrance, notching him inside before slowly sinking down atop him. A sob chokes in your throat at the thick feel of him inside you, stretching you, making you feel complete. Your entire existence boils down to where he’s joined with you and you relish the burn.

His hands are everywhere as you start to move, caressing your thighs, your hips, up to your breasts and back down, tracing a map on your skin only his fingers can read. Praise falls from his lips in an almost nonstop litany, telling you how wet you are, how tight, how warm, how good you’re making him feel.

“Do you want to know how you make me feel?” you ask, breathless. You look down at him through half lidded eyes and find him just as flushed and wanton as you. “How you’ve always made me feel?”

You continue to rock back and forth on his cock, slow, deliberate movements that leave you wanting, needing more. Logan shifts his hips and finds the leverage to fuck up into you, the deep drag of his cock against your walls making you throw your head back and moan.

“Fuck,” he growls, his fingers sinking deeper into the flesh of your hips, pulling you somehow impossibly closer. “Show me, sweetheart.”

You brace your hands against his chest, raking your fingers through the damp hair there, feeling his heart beat beneath your palms. Leaning down, you capture his mouth with yours, the kiss sloppy as he continues to thrust up into you. You move your hands up his neck, your fingers collecting the sweat along his jaw and then, “Feel, Logan.”

It starts slow, an almost faint heat spreading from your fingertips as they ghost over his skin, your power beginning to pulse in time with your heartbeat. Logan gasps and his rhythm falters as the first wave of emotion hits him. You slow, too, your hips barely moving as you run your fingers down from his jaw, over the column of his throat and back to his chest.

Your palms rest against his ribs as you continue to pour into him all the love and passion he’s ever shown you over centuries. Logan stares up at you in reverence, his face soft as he runs his hands up your sides, over your breasts. He tugs you down towards him, his mouth hovering over yours.

“Do you feel, Logan,” you ask, your breath hot against his lips. “Do you feel how much you love you have in you?”

He draws your bottom lip into his mouth, biting softly once, before capturing your mouth fully, kissing you deep. You hum as his tongue swipes against yours and his fingers tangle in your hair.

A gasp pulls from your throat as Logan wraps his arms around you and flips your position, forcing your legs around his waist as he begins to thrust into you again in earnest. You feel him deep in this position, each thrust of his cock against your walls hitting that perfect spot inside of you.

“It’s too much,” he groans into your skin. “Never…never felt like this.”

You rake your nails along his back, relishing in the growl that falls from this throat. “It always feels like this,” you gasp, drawing your power back.

His arms slide under your shoulders, anchoring you in place as his hips continue to thrust into you. It’s lewd almost, the slapping of skin against skin and the wet noises from where you’re joined. His breath is hot and damp against your skin where his mouth hovers over the pulse point in your neck.

Your fingers snake into the short strands of hair at the back of his neck and your other hand slips in between your bodies, reaching for your clit.

“That’s it,” he moans, “use those fingers to get yourself off on my cock.”

You can feel where he’s sliding thickly into your cunt, the wiry hairs at the base of his cock damp with your arousal, and you begin to rub in time with his thrusts. Pleasure zips along your spine, every cell in your body afire at his touch. You feel that telltale tug low in your belly and you know you’re not going to last much longer.

He slides his hands down from your shoulders, following the curve of your spine, forcing you to arch your back. Taking the opportunity before him, he swirls his tongue over one nipple, then the other as he palms the flesh of your hips in his hands, angling your hips further up into his. A keening whine falls from your lips as he somehow thrusts deeper into you, making your legs shake.

Logan nudges your hand away from your clit, replacing your fingers with his own as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes are focused on the sight of his cock thrusting into you and the slick smeared across your thighs.

“Logan,” you gasp, “I’m so close.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he rasps, dragging his gaze up to your face, “I got you. Takin’ me so well, so tight. Gonna spend the rest of my life tellin’ you how fucking good you are.”

His words tip you over the edge, your orgasm rolling through you as you spasm down on his cock, his name falling from your lips. He fucks you through your orgasm, each thrust of his hips sending aftershocks of pleasure along your limbs as he chases his own release. Logan’s thrusts grow erratic and you reach for him, grasping at his forearms, pulling him down to you.

“Come for me, Logan,” you murmur in his ear. “I wanna feel you come.”

With one final thrust, he comes with a groan, forehead pressed against yours as he spills himself deep within you. You can feel cock spasm as he lazily thrusts through his orgasm, using your body to wring out the last of his pleasure. You hold him close, pressing open mouthed kisses to his jaw as he finally stills within you.

Careful not to crush you, Logan pulls you to him as he rolls onto his side. He doesn’t pull out, tugging your leg over his hip to keep you close and full.

You smile up at him, brushing the damp hair away from his forehead. He sighs at your touch, a content sound that tugs at your heart.

“You really love me in every universe?” he asks softly, brushing his nose against yours.

“Yes.”

“Even this one?”

“Especially this one.”

You don’t know what the rest of this life holds, but you do know one thing—wherever he goes, you’ll be right there with him.

#deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #worst wolverine #logan howlett x you #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #deadpool #logan x reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett fanfiction

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86espresso · 1 month ago

Text

secrets i have held in my heart, are harder to hide than i thought ✯ jh86

sum: “I really like you.” *looks around* “are you sure-”

// jack x med student

warnings: 18+, oral (f & m receiving), mentions of familial neglect, cursing, kissing, stress, anxiety, doubt, pet tigers, jack thinking too hard, reader is insecure don’t know what for 💔, overuse of commas because im insane, happy ending, a lil too sappy (i say this with emphasis), i mean it there’s a whole lotta CHEESE, mostly fluff, very emotional and hearty pls im sorry im a lover. afab!reader w/ she/her pronouns :)

w/c; 7.6k

a/n: hey so yeah. wtf. the word count?? i had so much fun writing this. half scared that its boring. i love simp / munch jack. ps: as queen as y/n is, i gave reader a nickname, sorry. (a very … unique nickname. i myself am puzzled as to how my brain works) enjoy. or at least try to. under the cut !

THE library was unsurprisingly almost empty considering the fact that no sane person would want to step outside in this rainstorm, so you were content in studying organic chemistry in the very back, alone with your thoughts, your textbooks, folklore by Taylor Swift, and now a guy. Who decided that he will break the silence in the almost empty library.

You were in your world, as always, not really connecting or associating with things around you but the ruckus of the someone knocking over an umbrella stand and profusely apologizing to apparently no one made you lift your head up. You smile slightly before going back to your work, barely registering your surroundings.

Sure, Jack was entirely focused on his friends, studies, and hockey back in high school, but he was an expert at faces and names and could jot down absolutely anyone that he knows he’s seen before. He knew exactly who the girl with dark circles and way-too-oversized hoodie in the back was.

At least five minutes later, Jack started hovering near your spot, which was the romance aisle. You sneak a glance at him and take note of his athletic shorts and New York Giants hoodie and quickly denote that this man was definitely not the romance novel type (or maybe book type at all). After flipping mindlessly through another book he lets out a soft “fuck it” before turning to face you completely.

You can’t help but crack a smile at his jump when he saw that you had already been staring at him with wide, voidfull eyes.

A pause. You staring at him. Him staring at you. He cracks a dopey smile, blinding you with his paper white teeth, and pulls up a chair in front of you.

“What’s up, Dee?” He asks holding his hand up for a dap. Bewildered at how this complete stranger knows your nickname amongst close friends (from when you gracefully told people that ‘the bags under your eyes are Dior’), you dap him back anyway and blurt, “I have never seen you before.”

“You went to my high school. We worked in a project in like, AP World I think? I dunno. But I remember you saved my grade that whole year.”

Your mind remains blank. You saved a lot of people’s grades.

“My only high school memories are countless APs, pain, suffering, studying and depression.”

Most people would blanch at your dreamy straightforwardness, but Jack just grinned again.

“Yeah, I remember you were always tired but also really funny. And tired. Deja Vu, man, watching you sit here, laser focused on your books. I was on the hockey team, if that helps.”

I furrow my brows, thinking hard.

“I do remember that our hockey guys were really good. They would announce their names like every day on the speakers because they won all the time.”

Jack groans at the memory. He was well known but it was just uncomfortable having your last names called out where the whole school could hear.

You laugh at his reaction. “They would call the same names over and over. I don’t know if it was you who used to hide your face every time they did it but yeah.”

Jack perked up. “Yeah that was me.”

You take a moment to admire his boyish facial features and athletic build. He’s pretty.

‘Don’t even think about it’ pretty.

“Dang. You were like a superstar. Sorry I don’t remember much. I’m like, walking jet lag.”

He laughs a typical frat boy laugh (if that makes sense) and you like it. You want to hear it again.

“So, what are you doing out here? Never pegged you for a big city girl.”

“I go to college here.”

“Damn, we should’ve met sooner. My name is Jack, by the way.”

“My friends call me Dee, but I guess you knew that.”

You were left pondering as to why a hockey player from high school was even anticipating meeting you; people only approached you for notes and the occasional party invitation back then.

“So, uh- what about you? Make it big in the league thingy yet?”

He breaths a laugh. “You could say that.”

“Who do you play for?”

“New Jersey.”

“Prudential, isn’t it? That’s close by my apartment.” I say in thought.

Jack grins. “Really? We might bump into each other often, then.”

He looks genuinely excited.

Why.

What’s going on.

You chat for a few more minutes but it’s mostly you saying out of pocket things and Jack laughing instead of side-eyeing you and walking away. You were surprised at his effortless kindness.

“Phone.”

“Hm?”

“Or Snap? Whatever you feel like is best,” he says, pulling out his phone. It takes a second to register that he’s implying that you exchange contact information.

“Don’t really use Snapchat. I kinda have too much on my plate right now.” You hand over your phone.

“You always overwork yourself, you should be at the club. You’ll die on the inside.”

“Nothing I can’t handle, I hope.”

You just need to push through and never ever have fun.

He checks the time and sighs.

“I was just here to return a book but I gotta head back. Flight for a roadie takes off in a couple hours. I’ll be back in, like, four days? I hope to see you around then?”

You match his soft smile and nod, whatever roadie means but okay. It was actually nice, wasting some valuable study time for a potential friend. He’s cool.

“Yeah. See you.” You offer and huff a laugh as he reaches out to dap you up again.

That night, after yet another long and winding day with the only highlight being meeting someone who was apparently a high school acquaintance, you decide to look him up. Surprised at the absolute famethat this man had loaded, your lips parting at every detail, you click on his instagram and officially unhinge your jaw.

500k followers?

You’re never on insta but that can’t be good.

The shock of how you basically were bonding with someone who definitely downplayed how famous he was didn’t wear off a week later; he texted you quite often and you tried to text back without seeming dry.

It was nearly a week later when he offered to meet up again.

-> two questions

babies come from the baby store.

-> wtf

sorry. ask away !

-> 1. are you at the library rn

do you still like the caramel frappe from dunkin

yes. and yes. what the hell are you doing.

-> something nice. see u soon angel.

angel is wild when I look like I snuck on this earth but thanks for that anyways. you’re very kind :))

-> kind enough to tell you to that you’re really pretty :))

*reacted with heart emoji*

You check your forehead temperature to make sure you hadn’t just imagined the whole conversation.

It wasn’t long before Jack was strutting into the library with two dunkin’ shakes in his hands accompanied by his gorgeous smile when he spotted you in the back, once again.

“You’re wearing glasses today.” He says when you look up at his outstretched hand. You reach forward with a grateful smile, and deja vu hits you hard. The same exact scene playing out in high school when he had asked everyone in some group project their favorite drinks and treated them when they all got an A.

“I remember you,” you say as he flopped on the bean bag next to you with his own drink.

“Yeah? I knew you would. You’re too smart.” He says, again dazzling you with his perfect smile as he lifts two fingers to tap your temple softly to emphasize his point. It’s a challenge to tear your eyes away from his baby blues.

“Your eyes are so blue. It’s distracting.”

Jack’s eyes widen at your unintentional rebuttal at his subtle flirting, and he smirks. He knew that you weren’t aware that you were being flirted with the past week; what you lacked in emotional and social intelligence was shadowed by your sharpness in academics.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me you were a really big deal around here? Everyone knows you and you have like a million followers.”

“Stalking me?”

“Educating myself.”

Jack laughs and throws as arm around you to peer over your shoulder.

“Well, I don’t just go around telling people how good I am. So, whatcha doing?”

The contact makes you freeze up and once again the surreality of a man wanting to spend time with you disorients you a little bit.

“Watching porn.”

Jack laughs again and earns a stern look from the clerk down the aisle.

“I’m studying anatomy.”

“Yeah, didn’t suspect any less than med school for your smartass.”

You turn to him to talk back but his face was inches away from you and that sets off alarm bells throughout your body. You’ve had your fair share of guys and girls but there was not a single string attached and the short flings were easy to forget.

But having someone that pretty, that close to you, not showing exactly what intentions he had? That caused your anxiety to spike. Positively.

“Your face is really close.” You simply state, pushing your large frames higher up your nose.

“And yours is really red.”

You immediately press your hands against your cheeks and groan at what you picture your face looks like. Jack just giggles again and pulls your hands away.

“It’s cute.”

His hands are still on your wrists.

“It really isn’t, but thank you. You’re very kind.”

There’s a beat of silence where you can see the gears in his head turning.

“Do you like aquariums?”

You surprise yourself and Jack when you pull him into a hug as a greeting outside the aquarium.

The feel of your chests touching with little fabric in between set Jack’s heart off racing and the way your curves dipped at your hips had him pulling at his collar.

But most of all, when he pulled back from the hug, he noticed you were wearing shorts that had your legs all out for him to ogle over.

“You hidin’ all that?” He scans your figure, noting the dark, low cut, full sleeve top.

“What? All this?” You say as you push your tits together. “There’s not much to hide.”

Jack’s throat runs dry. Unfortunately for him, he’s still a guy and tits still make him drool. And the fact that you had no idea you were keeping him on his toes

“Be for real.” He rolls his eyes. “How’d your day go?”

“Nice, actually. I just took Nala for a walk and-“ you cut yourself off.

“I didn’t know you had a pet? Can I see her? I love anim-“

“She’s a tiger.”

You give him more and more reasons everyday as to why him hanging out with you was unethical and strange but he seemed to keep on staying. Studying you as if intrigued by your strangeness.

“You- have a pet..tiger?”

Yeah. I’ve done it.

“I- yeah.”

It seems like all Jack ever does is grin because he’s doing it again and flinging an arm around your shoulder as he starts to walk with you.

“Oh, Dee. There’s just so much to learn and love about you.”

It takes you a second to react.

“That may be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“You serious?”

“Yeah. Well, cause I was ugly growing up, and people always thought I was strange. It’s hard to imagine that people are genuinely interested in any sort of friendship with me.”

Jacks fingertips on your bare collarbone, his cologne and aftershave, his figure pressed against your side; all of it was overtaking your senses.

“Baby, why do you think I walked up to you that day in the first place? You may not remember much but I do. You were so kind and honest. And so intriguing. And hardworking. And pretty. I think your dark circles are hot.”

You huff out a laugh and ignore the flutter in your chest at ‘baby’.

Jack looks down at you with a gaze that he can’t pinpoint. You’re just very, very endearing to him. He needs to show you all kinds of fun so you laugh like that again.

“You smell nice.” You say and hesitate before loosening yourself against him more. He hums at the increased contact and at your compliment, smiling against your hair.

“Thank you.”

To say you had the absolute time of your life at the aquarium was an understatement. Jack got to see a side of you that loved fun, that was carefree, and didn’t have that goddamn crease in your eyebrows. You were the one pulling him around, telling him you wanted to be a marine biologist as a kid and that you recognize most of the species. Jack made sure to snap a few pictures of you when you weren’t looking, the lightning shaped twinkle in your eyes a memory he wanted to keep forever.

Later that day, Jack drove you back to your apartment, mentally noting that you were about a fifteen minute drive from his place.

“Nala?” You coo out softly as you push open the door and drag Jack inside, not giving him the chance to protest. Jack looks around at your apartment. It’s small and messy, but organized in some places. He jumps and lets out a brief scream when a fucking tiger is bounding towards you at full speed and knocking you over with a hug. You laugh as your beloved Nala starts licking up your face and you both roll on the floor.

Jack’s breathing calms a little as he remembers who owns the tiger.

“I’ll put her away for now.” You say, reading Jack’s skepticism. He sighed in relief.

“Oh good. Because as much as you reassured me and as man as I am, she’s still a tiger.” You giggle at his words and guide Nala towards her room.

The sound makes Jack smile stupidly. His heart stutters and he wants to put your little laugh on replay. He can’t believe that a girl who stated random medical facts at any time, who lost sleep because ‘she just forgot that it’s important’, who barely remembered him from a while ago even though he remembered everything, who waves at planes as they fly overhead, who didn’t know shit about the sport he played, had him wrapped tightly around her finger.

He takes a moment to observe your apartment. The stacks of medical related books that he doesn’t want to and never will understand, the old record player sitting in the corner of the kitchen, a huge jar of nutella on the coffee table, a questionable fluffy purple blanket on your sofa. Just little things that made you all the more real to him.

And he still wants to know more. He wants to know your sleep schedule so he knows that you’re getting enough sleep and when to text or call, he wants to know what you dream of, he wants to know your passions besides studying, he wants to know what made you become so numb and detached, how you still managed to have a twinkle in your eye when you experienced emotion.

But, as he leans to the counter for support at his racing mind and as you enter the room, still clad in your godforsaken low cut top and curve-hugging shorts, he most of all wants to know what you are like, what your lips would feel like molded against his, how you’d moan or whimper at his touch. He’s still leaning against the counter as he recalls when you unabashedly pushed your tits together just hours ago.

“You alright?” You ask, but you yourself seemed to have distressed eyebrow lines.

“Uh? Oh yeah. I was just.” He gestures around your apartment. “Observing.”

You nod, still lost in thought.

“Are you okay?” He asks, not liking the stress in your body language.

“Yeah. It’s just, I have two projects due next week and I’ve been studying for something else so I completely forgot about them.” You frown, feeling tears pool in your eyes. You can’t cry in front of Jack. If everything else didn’t make him abandon you, then this would.

“Woah. Hey, hey.” Jack is by your side immediately. He feels guilty for thinking of you sinfully while you were in distress but he really couldn’t help it. You blink back the tears and shrug it off.

“It gets kind of a lot sometimes, y’know?” Jack follows you to the couch and sits next to you, immediately taking your hands in his and pulling your legs onto his lap. You gave up on keeping your cool when he does that and give him a bewildered expression. Being taken care of is so strange.

“And? Go on, baby.” He smiles softly and encouragingly, dropping one of your hands to hold your chin for a moment before grabbing your hand again.

You blink.

“Well, It’s probably not as much as I’m stressing it out to be. I’m about to abuse substances.”

“Now don’t do that. There’s lots of ways to destress yourself.” Jack’s hand wanders again, resting on your bare knee. His movements are soft and gentle, but they still cause a foreign spark through your body. You dryly cough before registering his words and looking at Jack’s hand that had inched higher by the slightest.

“Is this flirting?” Rushed out of your mouth and Jack chuckles, a normal sound but an octave lower.

“Sure is, baby. You’re learning fast.” He’s staring your eyes down, and all of a sudden he’s consuming your senses again. His cologne is still there, his insane blues are glued to yours, his deep breathing is signifying his increasing heart rate. His hand inches higher as he moves closer.

“Why don’t I just,” shrug, “eat you out? ‘S a better high than drugs-” His phone buzzes in his pocket.

Jack huffs and pulls away, leaving your insides churning at the his lingering touch and words??? The implication alone, the images conjuring in your head were nothing short of filthy.

He scowls as he takes the call, muttering something about how it’s his agent and he’ll get in trouble if he doesn’t answer. His responses are curt and his expression neutral, but his hand is gripping your thigh with intensity. As he hangs up the call and tosses his phone aside, his hand is almost at your inner thigh and he maneuvers himself to be directly on his knees on the floor in front of you.

The sudden movement and his face looking up at yours between your slightly parted legs has your pussy throbbing. It’s been weeks since you were.. in this particular position with someone and god did it feel nice that it was the finest man in world to unpause your sex life.

He leans up to be face level with you. “Do you trust me, baby?” You never noticed how sultry his natural voice was.

His eyes search yours for any kind of discomfort as his hand reaches forward to cup your cheek. You nod in conformation as he moves closer.

Your breath hitches as he presses his lips to your cheek, dangerously close to your mouth. It confuses you slightly as to why he didn’t just kiss you but both of his hands on your waistband distracts you.

“Can I take these off?” He questions and you nod once again, not trusting your voice.

He’s doing everything in slow motion and you think it alludes to your sensitivity earlier, but anticipation and his hands cloud everything in your mind.

What kind of guy just? offers to eat you out? to help you destress?

Your shorts are discarded and the exposure doesn’t bother you. Sure your heart would be thudding either way, but Jack made you feel different. No anxiety in the sense that he would judge you or harm you or hurt your feelings.

“Hm, these are cute.” Jack’s thumb fingers over the lining of your underwear.

You feel yourself flush.

“Thanks.” Is your quiet response.

“Relax, baby. This is for you to unwind, not to get nervous. Focus on how you’re feeling,” Jack instructs as his finger ghosted over your clothed cunt. Your teeth nibble on your bottom lip as you push your hips closer to his hand.

He smirks at your eagerness and gives in, entirely pushing his thumb against your clit through your panties.

His thumb moves slowly but firmly back and forth as he gauges your reaction. Finding the right spots where your stomach clenches or your eyebrows knit together.

“More.” You muster as you open your eyes to look down at Jack who was already moving to take your damp panties off. Once again, slowly. He groans as he sees you glistening for him and starts kissing up your thigh.

“You have a pretty face.”

Jack grins up at your compliment while peppering feather light kisses on your inner thighs.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The anticipation pools in your lower stomach as Jack breaks eye contact with you to admire your delicacy in front of him. He uses the same thumb to rub through your folds and reach higher to circle your clit. The stimulation has you moaning softly and the sound has Jack’s cock twitching in his shorts.

“I- hurry.” You huff in slight annoyance, wanting more besides the slow circles. Jack smirks against your thigh and removes his thumb so he could move forward lick a stripe through your folds.

Your knuckles get white gripping the pillow, itching to hold his hair instead as his eyes flicker between yours and your pussy. Jack notices your hand on the pillow and guide it to his hair while sucking and licking your cunt. He parts away for a second to catch his breath before making slow and languid motions with his tongue on your clit.

You grip his hair, hard. Jack grunts against you and loses a shred of control as he pulls your legs apart further to dive further in. You let out a startled breath at the sudden movement and pull on his hair more as he shakes his head deeper while still staring up at you.

“Jack..” you breathe out, but it comes out as more of a whimper that makes him hum against you and a spark run through his body. He pulls away and inserts his middle and ring finger through your slick and pumps shortly before curling his fingers. You heave a breath and moan at the feeling while Jack stares up at you in awe.

“You’re everything.” He says more to himself than you, as he watches you writhe and whimper at his fingers while holding the eye contact. He connects his lips with your clit again and suctions in a way that has your back arching and your moans getting louder and more high pitched with each type of attention Jack gives to your pussy.

He switched his fingers and mouth and rubs your clit as he laps up your arousal as he feels you getting close. He takes that moment to switch back and locks eyes with you as his dark pink, wet lips attach to your clit again, softly sucking you closer to your tipping point.

“Oh, f-fuck I’m-“

Your eyebrows knit and your eyes roll back at the sensations of his mouth and tongue and fingers and gaze.

You spasm around his fingers and moan louder while Jack’s fingers guide you through your release. He licks up whatever he can before sitting and wiping his face with the back of his hand as you stare at him with hooded and tired eyes.

“Feel better?” He has the nerve to ask as he runs a wet wipe up and between your legs.

When did he even get that?

Your leg twitches in sensitivity after he’s finished.

“Mm better.” Was all you could muster. All you wanted was to sleep and dream for days.

Jack laughs softly at your state and checks the time.

“I’ll need to head out soon. Team dinner.” He says as he fits another pair of underwear on you. You feel a pang in your chest and anxiety creeps up your spine, but Jack immediately shuts your thoughts down.

“Hey, this doesn’t mean I’ll abandon you or anything. I’m goin’ cause I have to and I would take you but you look like you could use a nap. We can hang tomorrow?” He’s so soft and caring with you, cupping your cheek and smoothing his thumb over it.

“Yeah okay.” You say and watch as he gets up, not before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I won’t go anywhere, baby.”

After the team dinner, when Jack got home and shut the door to his apartment, the first thing he did was call his older brother. Quinn was just the slightest, itty-bittiest bit more fortunate with girls, so Jack naturally went to him for tips here and there.

A few minutes into the call, they exchanged formalities and talked about each others’ seasons before Quinn cut to the chase.

“So? Is it a girl?”

Jack blanched.

“I- well yes, but it’s different this time. Swear.”

“You say that every-time. But it does sound like it might be different.”

“Do you remember Dee from high school?”

“I don’t remember anything from high school.” Is it really that common to forget four years of your life?

“Yeah well. I met her again a few weeks ago. She was the one who used to take all the APs and she graduated early? She was like always tired and kinda funny. And she’s pretty. Like the natural kind of pretty. You’d look at her and want to give up the world for her kind of pretty. I don’t know.” Quinn listened quietly, detecting the hint of fear in Jack’s voice.

“I might be, like obsessed with her. I think she knows.”

“Wait, wait, wait. She knows? That you like her? And you’re not together yet?” Jack didn’t deny it when he said that he liked her.

“I-yes? I think so. She might be into me too and we did a thing earlier today and she flirts with me without even thinking about it? That’s gotta mean something right?”

“You did things with her?!She flirts with you?! Do something. But take it slow. She probably still wonders why you even give her the time of day. She likes you but she doesn’t know it yet.” Hearing his older brother say it untightened his chest.

“I was going to kiss her but I really wanted to things slow with her. She’s been through a bit and, I don’t know, I want to treat her special.” He’s glad that he has a person he can say the cringiest shit to. If it was anyone else on the other line, he would get toasted for the rest of his life. Jack wore his heart on his sleeve and was smart at reading people and their emotions. But sometimes he was just clueless on what to do with that knowledge.

We can hang tomorrow.

Who the fuck says that after going down on someone.

Jack didn’t text you that night.

Or the next morning.

You started panicking slightly when you come home from classes.

That had to have been the last straw for him.

He’s a fucking superstar, he lives in the New York City area, where all the pretty models and blue eyed blondes live. Why the hell would he go for a tired med student from his home state who didn’t care about herself enough to care for him?

Your mind runs a marathon as the elevator doors open to your floor. But when you approach your apartment, Jack is sitting on the floor next to door, scrolling on his phone.

You freeze and stare blankly as he realizes that you’re here.

He perks up and walks over to you pulling you into a light hug.

“Hey, Dee. How were classes?”

“Good. Thanks for asking.” You reply, hesitantly wrapping your arms back around him. You weren’t hugged a lot as a kid or growing up. You’ve hugged more in the last two weeks than you have in your entire life.

“I have a game later today. Wanna come? The other team…isn’t that good. We might win. Unless you have work to do. Or if you just don’t want to go that’s okay too. Or-“ he cuts off when you press a finger against his lips.

“I’d love to go. I finished a lot of my work during classes.” You smile removing your fingers, relaxing in his arms. “When is it?”

“At 7. I’ll pick you up, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You both just stand there for a minute before you remember social cues.

“So, come in? I’m hungry as fuck. We should eat.” You say pushing the door open, petting Nala as you walk in and Jack followed. He smiles at your awkwardness and accepts.

Your look is acceptable. Hair clutched back, light makeup, hoodie and sweats is your go-to anyway. Plus, you’re always cold.

You arrive at around quarter to seven and with the help of signs make your way to the lounge that Jack gave you a pass to.

There’s a guard at the door that held his hand out for the pass and when you gave it to him he eyed you wearily.

“You’re Hughes’ girl? Where did you get this?”

“Jack gave it to me.”

“Uh huh.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “So can I go in?”

“Sweetheart, Jack has only ever invited two other girls here and I can tell you right now, you’re not the third. Who gave you this pass?”

The mention of Jack bringing other girls here makes you absolutely sick to your stomach.

You might vomit.

But anger bubbles up your throat and you’re about to press your finger into the guards chest and give him a piece of your mind, when there’s a patter of feet and an excited “Dee!” coming from your left.

Jack has you in his arms already before you could register it. He tucks you into his shoulder, presses his lips against your temple, lingering, and faces the guard.

“Was there a problem?” The guards mouth hangs open and flickers between the two of you.

“None at all.” He opens the door and lets the two of you in. After he shuts the door and turns face you, you take a second to admire him.

He’s dressed in his game jersey, shoulder pads and everything; except for his skates.

He looks really good.

“You look really good.”

Silence.

“Are you blushing?”

Jack pulls you into his chest so you don’t see more of the pink adorning his cheeks.

“Am not,” he mutters above your head and you giggle as you try to untangle from his grasp.

You pull back and notice that he still has a tint on his cheeks. He holds your face for a moment, admiring every feature. Going from eye to eye, the slope of your nose, the dimple digging into your left cheek, a beauty mark on your chin, your lips.

You feel your breath quickening when his thumb grazes your cheek and his eyes linger on your lips a little longer.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the two of you.

“Warm ups in two!”

Jack sighed and looked back at you.

“I need to go. You can watch from here.” He led you further into the room and you could hear the crowd getting louder as you got closer. He led you to a balcony where there were a few other people, and pecked your cheek before going back.

The game starts and you’re more clueless that you thought you’d be. The puck was way too small and you didn’t bring your glasses, but you remember Jack telling you that he was ‘86’, so you tried to follow wherever he was.

The girl next to you strikes up a conversation which you cautiously tread with, but you warm up soon. She tells you that she’s dating someone on the team.

“Woah. That must be cool.” She looks confused.

“Aren’t you Jack’s girl?”

“No? We’re friends. I think. He’s really nice to me.” Your new friend blinks before talking again.

“He really likes you though, and you look like you really like him.”

“Well of course I do. He treats me really well.”

“Oh, babe. No. He like likes you. My boyfriend told me he talks about you all the time.” She holds your hand. You look down at it and back at her. You’re quiet for a moment. You’re not sure how to process that.

“I’m not sure how to process that.”

“Well, do you like him? Love him even?”

“I-“

You’re cut off by that awfully loud goal horn, and glance at the screen to see that Jack has scored. You felt a surge of pride in your chest and feel yourself smiling wide as Jack’s tiny figure skated around and fist bumped the players on the bench. He turns to your section for a moment, lingering for a sliver of a second and your heart stops. The game called for the face-off just a second later so he had to look away.

You look over to the girl on your right and she’s already looking at you with a half smirk.

Jack politely declined on drinks later in the locker room after the devils won.

He leans against his car and thinks about you. He really wanted to see you, needed your affirmation.

It’s all he seems to do now. Jack just wants reassurance and peace in knowing that you were there. He spent every waking moment thinking about you and how he got you to show sides of yourself that you don’t show to people. He tried to keep his personal life away from hockey but the way his instincts told him to look in your general direction after he scored made him sick to his stomach.

He might actually be stupid obsessed with you.

Trusting his gut on your body language and making a bold move the previous night may have been the best thing he’s ever done.

That means that he doesn’t need to be cautious with his flirting anymore. He knows exactly what he feels but he wants to wait til you come to that conclusion on your own.

He didn’t notice your quiet footsteps in his direction and was mildly startled when you were standing in front of him. Almost at once, he felt a smile adorn his face.

“That was so cool, I didn’t understand anything but I know you scored.” Your wide, twinkling eyes stared back up at him. “I’m proud of you.”

And that’s all it took for him to usher you into the back seat, strip off your sweatpants, and throw your legs over his shoulders.

Not even ten minutes later, your lungs are dying for air and your body is covered in a thin sheet of sweat. He was rougher this time, sucking a hickey on your neck before, getting the entire bottom half of his face messy, his own hooded eyes losing focus as he pleasured you.

“You back to me yet, baby?”

“Hm?”

You open your eyes and you’re in the front seat, cleaned up, pants back on, and Jack is fastening your seatbelt for you.

“I lost you for like, three minutes there. You okay?”

His voice is gentle and quiet, his index and thumb holding your chin softly as his azure eyes bore into yours.

“Chipotle?”

He laughs, pulling back and shifting the gear into drive, his hair falling slightly in his face and he pushes it back.

“All the chipotle in the world for my Dee.”

Your mind briefly flashed to how he kissed the tip of your nose before he went down on you, and not your lips.

You’re in Jack’s apartment now (your heart dropping when you thought of Nala, but then you remembered that you fed her quite well and she had to be passed out by now. Jack handed you a Hershey’s kiss to calm you down), and it’s big.

Like, huge.

Massive for someone who lives alone.

His TV was playing ‘How to lose a guy in 10 days’ and you were watching like a hawk.

“I’ve never seen this one before.”

“Really? You don’t watch romcoms?” Jack looks at you surprised, sitting next to you with both of your chipotle orders and throwing a blanket over the two of you.

“No. I don’t really get the time.” You furrow your brows and turn to him with a blank expression. “You’ve showed me so much fun in the last few weeks. Thank you.”

Jack could happily die in that moment. He flashes back to yesterday again, your childlike wonder, the new things he learnt about you.

“‘S nothing yet. There’s so much more you deserve to feel happy about.” He kisses your temple before getting closer to you.

You both watch in silence for a while, occasionally laughing and aw-ing, until you can’t hold it back anymore.

“Do you think kissing is unhygienic?”

You look up to him, his unbuttoned shirt, messy hair and lingering smile making your heart skip a beat.

Oh no.

You have such a horrible, fat crush on him.

“Hm?”

“I-nothing.”

“M’kay.”

Sweet boy is not a multitasker and the movie was at a really good part, so he didn’t really get distracted and soon you were engrossed too.

You were still in a cloud of feelings and it was getting a bit much for you. Your head was usually void of emotion, so the change was welcome. And you had Jack to thank for that. He’s done so much for you, taken care of you in ways that no one has and no one ever will.

You realize that he could be your worst heartbreak or someone that’s going to be in your life forever.

You feel slightly sick thinking about it and you need to get it out of your system.

“Can I suck you off?” Your lips lightly brush his ear.

Now that.

That gets Jack’s attention.

He nearly snaps his neck to turn to face you and your noses touch.

“You- I- what?”

Your fingertips are feathery as you brush the hair out of his face.

“I want to suck your dick.”

“You don’t- if this is to- to reciprocate or something-“

“I promise it’s not. I really just want to.”

Jack is already semi-hard and he can feel his dress pants tighten. His eyes briefly widen and he borderline gulps before he watches your hand run down his chest and toy with his belt buckle. As soon as he gives you the green light and pauses ‘How to lose a guy in 10 days’, you’re on your knees in front of him, just like how he was with you the previous night.

Jack’s sanity is once again lost as he watches you on your knees for him. You make a quick work of his belt buckle and pull down his dress pants just enough.

You can already see how loaded he is through his boxers and look back up at him with the same wide eyes that he goes crazy over.

“Cool.”

Jack barely has time to react over your concise approval of his length before you’re mouthing over his boxers, sucking softly, leaving Jack gasping for a breath.

You pull down his boxers and start working immediately, pumping him and wetting your hands slightly so you have more friction.

“Y’know, it’s crazy—I know what all of these veins are called.” You say, more to yourself but Jack’s half smile drops when you lay your tongue flat against his shaft and suck on his tip. He lets out an embarrassing sound between a staggered breath and a whimper as you make your way down. Your cheeks hollow out as you make eye contact with him, making sure you’re getting it right. You come off and continue with your hands and look up at him.

“Good?”

“F- Christ- fuck, so good, baby. So good.”

Happy with yourself, you continue to suck him clean while he chokes out moans and his stomach clenches. You can feel him getting heavier in your mouth and you start speeding up, using both of your hands.

There’s a moment when he reaches forward to push your hair out of your face, so that you don’t get bothered and so that he sees you properly, which warms your heart.

He taps one of yours hands that’s on him to indicate that he’s close and you pull back with a kitten lick to his tip before sticking your tongue out.

You have Jack seeing stars when his load pumps into your mouth, and your eyes dart over his shirt clinging to his chest, his hair falling into his screwed shut eyes, his lips parted and his hand gripping the sofa with such intensity that his veins pop out.

You tuck him back into his clothing after cleaning him up, and he looks at you with tired eyes while making grabby hands.

You chuckle, climbing into his arms and he slumps his body against you, both of you now lying down on the couch as he unpauses the movie.

His head rests comfortably against your chest, one of your hands running through his hair, and the other intertwined with his.

It’s sweet.

Jack wakes up alone and panics at once. It’s embarrassing, really; like finding out your stuffed animal fell to the floor during your sleep as a toddler. But when he checks his messages, he finds a text from you.

Hey, I had to leave. I have a project due tomorrow and also Nala :( We can meet up later. I had fun yesterday. Thank you :))

It’s hits Jack how gone he is when he finds himself clutching his phone to his heart.

It takes a while.

He comes home fresh from morning practice took a nice long nap to clear his head before waking up properly to see that it was raining outside.

He was enjoying (not) the protein shake that he was required to drink and mindlessly scoring through plays from an old game, when it hits him like a sack of bricks.

Do you think kissing is unhygienic?

You think he doesn’t want to kiss you.

You think he’s toying with your heart by showing you all kinds of affection besides the one thing that both of you wanted so fucking bad.

You think he doesn’t like you enough to do that yet.

The drive to yours was smooth despite the rain pouring down from every direction, and because you always reminded him of road safety.

You were standing outside of the apartment building, looking like you were having an argument with.. your tiger.

Your hands were on your hips, body soaked and hair wet as you tried to coax Nala into shelter.

Jack laughed at both of your antics which got your attention. Your mind flashes back to the day that you met him, the pouring rain, and how awkward it was to meet someone you knew from a while back. You wave at him happily as he approached, but noticed a hint of anxiety and embarrassment.

“What’s wro-?“

“Are you into poetry?”

“Uh, sometimes? Why?”

“This- well, I can’t read it. Here.”

He hands over his phone, stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at anything but you. Puzzled, you cover his phone from the pelting droplets so you could read.

‘The first time you caught my eye

it was not love at first sight.

Instead a quiet curiosity was

planted in my chest and I knew

it was only a matter of time before

you sunk beneath my bones and

nurtured this deep seated familiarity

into a love so fierce that I would question

if I had ever been in love before.’

Lyra Wren.

You read it again.

There’s no way he actually searched for a poem to depict how he felt.

“Look, I didn’t understand half of it hit you get the-“

Jack was cut off by our lips against his.

It was short, maybe a second long, closed mouth, but you pulled away breathless and were close enough to feel his heart racing underneath his clothes.

How desperately he wanted your cold, soft lips against his again.

“So, you like me? For who I am?”

He nods.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I-“

You were interrupted by Nala’s whine (to say: I change my mind, I want to go inside), and you give Jack his phone, grab his hand and pull him inside.

“C’mon, we’ll get pneumonia.”

Your hands were still in each others, his engulfing yours, when you shut the door to your apartment, locked it, watched Nala bound to her room, and turned to face him again properly.

He was so, so close. Your lips were parted, just inches apart, your foreheads touching.

He closed the gap this time, almost groaning in relief when he felt your mouth properly against his, something you both yearned for without realizing. His lips move against yours gently, savoring as much of you as he can. He nips your bottom lip and it has you and Jack smiling into the kiss. And then it’s a mess, teeth clashing, giggling, tongues lolling over another, one of his hands cupping your face and the other wrapped around your waist, but it feels like everything you’ve ever wanted.

You pull back.

“I love you more.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes smut #jack hughes fic #ellie writes 🙂‍↔️#jack Hughes fluff

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hurtspideyparker · 8 months ago

Text

One night in the lab Peter finds an old prototype of the EDITH glasses and puts them on.

"Look Mr. Stark! I am Iron Man," he says with a deep voice.

"C'mon kid, that's the best impression you got?" Tony says before looking up.

He sees Peter with those rectangular frames and big grin. For a moment he thinks he's looking at old publicity photos of himself. A confident Tony Stark, tinted glasses and cocky smile, hair fluffed up and oozing manly charm.

Tony's easy smile drops a bit at the thought of Peter being anything like who he used to be.

"Oh sorry for talking over you Ms. Potts I just like the sound of my own voice more than hearing about the safety of our company. I'm too cool to apologize so I'll buy you a zoo for endangered species later honey," Peter tries again with the mocking deep voice.

Tony is quick to recover from the odd deja-vu feeling of seeing the teenager in the frame of a mirror, focusing back on his hologram.

"Yeah because I call the love of my life by her last name. And for your information it was an alpaca sanctuary, and she loved it." Tony corrects, pointing a pen at Peter in rebuke without looking up from his work.

"I chose to be respectful over accurate. Also I saw those alpaca photos and one of them was trying to chew on her skirt, she didn't look very impressed." Peter replies with a matter of fact press of his lips.

Tony glances back at the boy only to find himself unable to look away. He can't help but hear echoes of "I just wanted to be like you!" when he sees the boy wearing frames reminiscent of Tony's classic fashion sense.

Tony thinks about Howard, how he used to run laps to prove he was good enough, better than, worthy of being his son.

He was never enough for Howard.

"You're always better at remembering that kind of stuff than me anyways kid."

Peter is taken back by the earnest tone the older man suddenly possesses. His mouth opens but no words come out in reply, Tony looking at him as if he can see right through the spiderling.

"Now stop playing with my old crap and c'mere, we have some important decisions to make," Tony waves him over to look at something on his phone.

When Peter gets close enough he sees that it's a food delivery app, Tony's fingers hovering between an Indian and Thai restaurant.

Peter shoots him another grin, "I vote for samosas!"

Tony rolls his eyes but clicks on the Indian restaurant anyways.

Peter notices in the reflection of the phone that he still has the glasses on, reaching up to remove them before Tony puts a hand on his wrist to stop him.

"Keep em on, it's the first time you've ever looked cool enough to hang out with me. The tech in those is useless anyways, they're just a pair of sunglasses now."

Peter looks up at his mentor with such awe and admiration that Tony nearly melts like butter under the sun.

Tony may not do many things right when it comes to people, but he knows that even when he was still young and naive he'd known better than to ever look at Howard like that.

So maybe there's one thing he hasn't screwed up.

#peter parker #tony stark #spider man #marvel mcu #irondad and spiderson #iron man

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haeryna · 6 months ago

Text

the sadness we shared is my clarity ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ↪ fushiguro megumi x reader

summary: it's spring when fushiguro megumi finds you. it's summer when he realizes he loves you. but as the days shorten, and time runs out, megumi realizes you're slipping away.

tw: angst, as per usual. mentions of gore, and sexual tension but nothing explicit or nsfw. you and megumi are both idiots. half of this was churned out in a day so please give the author grace. not proofread. arrangedmarriage!au and friends to enemies to lovers. megumi is Mean. mutual pining, so much that i want to throw up. mmm yummy clan politics

notes: banner by the lovely @/cafekitsune! title taken from txt's deja vu. had this fic rotting in my head and in my drive. dedicated to riko, for being one of the first mooties i ever had. love you @riaki !!

also i'm sorry everyone for vanishing off the face of the earth pls accept this fic as an apology :'))

part one/??

It’s summer, and the air in Kawasaki is miserably hot and oppressive. Tacky skin clings to thick cloth, and Megumi grimaces at the feeling. Gojo had finally decided to send all the first years together on a mission to deal with a group of Grade 3 spirits, deeming his pupils “worthy to finally make their debut!” To celebrate, Nobara had corralled everyone to a small cafe, located near the train station. “Cmon, this place has air conditioning, and Ijichi won’t be here for at least another hour,” she insists, fingers wrapped around the curve of your wrist. Begrudgingly, Megumi follows along, heavy with the knowledge that where you go, he'll follow.

He can’t help but sneak glances over, as you and Nobara fawn over the icy desserts and drinks the cafe has to offer. The soft swoop of your neck is revealed as you lean in closer to peer at the deserts hidden behind the glass. A bead of sweat trickles down into the hollow of your collarbone, and Megumi swallows hard, forcing himself to look away. The flush on his cheeks is from the summer heat, he tells himself. He can’t quite bring himself to believe it.

“Fushiguro!” you call out, and he forces himself to look at you. “What is it?”

“Aren’t you going to get a drink?”

Megumi hesitates, before grumbling an affirmative. As the other three move to secure a table, he turns to face the cashier. She seems younger than him by a few years, makeup done even in the hot weather with mascaraed eyelashes batting at him innocently. She misses the proffered bills, running her hand along his, before apologizing a bit breathily. “It’s fine,” Megumi sighs. His thoughts wander as the cashier chatters away mindlessly. You were favoring your right side. Were you injured? Had one of the curses somehow reached you before he could stop them? Your technique had seemed to wane towards the end of the fight. Were you overexerted? Did he have to speak to Gojo about how hard he’d been training you?

He pulls himself from his thoughts just in time to notice the cashier leaning over the counter, watching him curiously. “Would you like a receipt, sir?”

“No,” is his curt reply, shoving all of his traitorous thoughts of you deep down inside of himself. The cashier pouts. “If you fill out a survey, you can get five dollars off on your purchase!”

Megumi can feel himself grimacing. Nobara would kick his ass if he didn’t at least take it and offer it to her. “Fine then.” As he turns back to the table, he scowls at the too-bright smile on Yuuji’s face. “What’s that look for?”

“Fushiguro, she was totally hitting on you!”

He swats away the eager high five. “Did the curses fuck with your brain or something?”

“No, seriously, look at the receipt she gave you!”

Megumi can feel the heat of your gaze as he unravels the receipt. Under the printed text of “FIVE DOLLARS OFF AFTER SURVEY COMPLETION!” was a line of neatly printed numbers. Scowling, he shoves the offending piece of paper in your direction. “Here. Take it.”

“I don’t want your leftovers,” you shoot back, eyes blazing, and his traitorous heart wrenches. “It’s not for the number, idiot. Weren’t you and Kugisaki just complaining about spending that much money on drinks? Take the survey and stop whining.”

He lets himself fall back in the familiar rhythm of bickering with Nobara as she swats at him. He’ll do anything to avoid the way your offended gaze turns thoughtful, how you seem to study his face as he forces himself to continue the lie he’s let himself live. You cannot be his, Megumi thinks desperately, even after the four of you depart the cafe, and after you toss the crumpled up wad of paper into the trash can. Even as you fall asleep in the backseat of the car, head perched onto his shoulder, he fights down the growing panic and nausea. He would rather break his own heart in the process than let you suffer from his affections.

Cursed, he thinks. There’s a reason his mother passed, his father killed, and his sister stolen away. He’s as cursed as the shadows that seep from his domain with their tendrils that wrap and curl over every inch of light. Megumi has already accepted that the feelings that grow by the day can never be revealed. You, with your sunshine laugh, whose tender hands would always reach for him after a mission. Fushiguro, you’d say, kindly. You’re hurt again. Let me grab the first aid kit. You, with your hands that are soft and gentle, as much as Megumi’s hands are calloused and stained.

I love you, he finally admits, as he carries you from the car back to your room. Yuuji had an ankle injury, and Nobara couldn’t handle hauling your weight up the stairs leading back to Jujutsu Tech. At least, that’s what he tells himself, as he shifts your weight in his arms, feeling the way you subconsciously pressed yourself closer to him. I love you. Your eyelashes flutter in your sleep, brow crinkling ever so slightly. Gently, Megumi smoothes it over with his thumb. I love you.

Fushiguro Megumi was by no means a religious man. He’d known that there was no god in the battlefields of a sorcerer, no mercy in the torturous death that only curses could offer. And yet, as he lowers you down to the comfort of your mattress, he finds himself praying. I’ll do anything, he thinks, as he watches you in the depths of your slumber. I’ll give up my body, my soul, my life. Just please let her live. Please let her be happy.

Please give her someone that could take better care of her than I ever could.

Fushiguro Megumi found you in the first rainfall of spring.

You hadn't noticed him, quietly watching the droplets fall on the sakura trees planted near the perimeter of Jujutsu Tech. The edges of your kimono were stained with mud, with a chunk of your haori ripped out on the left side. Megumi frowned. Silk, he noted, and gold. You’re dressed too well to be here, but too oblivious to be a threat. Just to be sure, he let his fingers curl around the handle of one of his tonfas before he spoke.

“Who are you?”

Startled, you turned to face him, and his scowl deepened. You were pretty, even with your eyes rounded in shock, and the undignified noise that had escaped you when you realized you weren’t alone. When you told him your name, voice hesitant, Megumi couldn't help but hate the way his heart reacted as you spoke.

“I’m looking for Gojo Satoru,” you finished, teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip as you waited for his response. Megumi swallowed hard.

“A lot of people do.” He kept his tone steady, forced himself not to let the heat in his chest rise to his face. “What’s a Kamo doing here, looking for him?”

Megumi had heard of you, of course. Gojo had raised him with at least a basic understanding of the three Big Families, and their prominent figures from both the past and present. The half-sister to Noritoshi Kamo, you had been held behind while your elders sent him away to the sister school in Kyoto. Women, Gojo had said, tone playful but eyes cold, are seen as nothing more than breeding stock and political pawns. They’ll probably keep her there until she’s married off.

Something seems to settle inside you, and Megumi can’t help but watch, ensnared in the web you weave. Your hands smooth over the creases in your kimono as you exhaled, shoulders rounding back. Even covered in grime you radiated elegance, though you were betrayed by the still-skittish look in your eyes. “I’m here to make a deal with him.”

A few days after the four of you had returned from your assignment in Kawasaki, you realized that Megumi was behaving rather oddly.

At first, he seemed moody. Tired, you assumed. With promotions coming up, Gojo-sensei had been training the four of you even more rigorously than usual. Your mornings were filled with research, analyzing the few texts that Jujutsu Tech had recovered on cursed techniques that were even remotely similar to your own. The evenings were spent sparring, with thick dust kicked up under the lukewarm breeze, and the faint howls of Megumi’s shikigami in the distance.

Sighing, you squat down, calling softly into the woods until one of his Divine Dogs trot out, tongue lolling out happily. You can’t help the wistful smile that tugs at your lips as you run your fingers through soft, black fur. They’d taken a liking to you, after you started carrying a few dog treats in your gear to give to them. Megumi had always complained that you spoiled them, babied them too much. You couldn’t help it. You loved his shikigami dearly.

What did that say about you? The thought makes you lightheaded for a moment. The heat, you think, a bit desperate. It was all the heat.

“You’re late.”

You tilt your head backwards, startling at how close he’d gotten to you. He’s dressed for the summer heat, ditching his uniform for something more practical. Linen pants brush by you as he reaches your side, and your heart seems to convulse when you realize you can see the slight ripple of muscle under the fabric of his shirt. Heat flares in your cheeks and you look away. Stormy eyes study you, a flicker of something predatory passing through them before he turns to his shikigami.

“And you. Stop running off like that.”

The Divine Dog whines, and you crinkle your nose, turning back to meet his gaze. “I was calling for it because I couldn’t find you. You weren’t where we normally spar.”

“Gojo wanted us to use the other fields.”

“Fine, fine.” Petulant, you reach for his wrist, hoisting yourself up off the ground. Before you can even speak, he’s tearing it from your grasp as though you’ve burnt him. “Hurry up. We’re losing light.”

You follow after him quietly, ignoring the sting in your hand from the phantom contact. He’s probably overwhelmed with the work we’ve been doing, you remind yourself, yet you can’t help the slight feeling of dread that runs up your spine. His dog noses at your palm, whining softly, as thought it can sense your distress. Its owner however seems none the wiser.

“Why did you want to spar today? Didn’t Gojo-sensei say we could take today off?”

“The next mission is the one that the higher-ups are sending us on to see if we should be recommended for a higher grade. That means it’s going to be more dangerous than usual.”

The trees clear to reveal a clearing, grass matted down from hours of sparring. “I hate when you’re right.”

Megumi spares you a sharp glance but says nothing else. “Warm up quickly. I want to be back before it gets dark.”

You stretch out under the waning light, letting your technique run through your body for a few moments. Cheating, Yuuji would insist, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t eager for a fight. The upcoming mission loomed over you, anxiety building as you thought about the uncertainties of it all. You hadn’t trusted the higher-ups from the beginning, and you especially didn’t trust them in any circumstance where Itadori Yuuji’s life was at risk. You exhale, feeling the familiar buzz of your cursed energy flow as you move. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Sparring with Megumi feels like a dance, more than anything else. He was your partner long before Yuuji and Nobara had even transferred to Tokyo, and your body has been trained to move as seamlessly with him as possible. Every step forward he takes you step back, and with each swing of the staff, your katana rises up to meet up. You lose yourself in it for a moment, watching the way his jaw clenches in concentration, eyebrows furrowed as you narrowly avoid a pointed elbow. A sharp jab of your blade, and Megumi is suddenly right in front of you. The air leaves your lungs in his presence taking in the scent of his laundry detergent and the slightest tinge of the soap he uses. He takes advantage of your distraction to disarm you, flipping you neatly into a hold.

“Yield,” he says, pressing his knee down into your stomach a little more firmly. You try your best to ignore the sight of him kneeled between your legs as you try to kick out from under him. His eyes darken at the sight of you, pinned and struggling to free yourself.

“Yield,” he says, once more, and you do, letting your body rest against the ground as you stare up at him. There’s a bead of sweat trickling down his temple, the veins of his slender hands raised as he holds his staff. You let your hand curl against the wood of it, feeling the pressure of it resting on your throat.

“I yield,” you say, and in that moment you know that you have. Fushiguro Megumi has stolen your heart from the day you met him. I’d give you everything, you realize, as Megumi helps you to your feet. There are 35 trillion blood cells in the human body, and every single one of them runs for you. You let your fingers intertwine with his for the briefest moment before forcing yourself to pull away. I would do anything to have you. My greatest sin and my holiest salvation wrapped into a single body.

“That was a good fight,” he tells you, taking your silence for sulking. Maybe I wanted to lose. Maybe I did want to fall for you. Would that be such a sin?

“Thanks,” is your stilted answer, the setting sun sealing your fate. You’re in love with Fushiguro Megumi. And you don’t quite know what to do about it.

The mission is simple enough, until it isn’t. An abandoned hospital, Ijitchi had said in the car ride over. Residual curses had been spotted clinging to the interior, feeding off of an unknown source within. Intel had suggested that it was a Grade 2 spirit at most. You watch as Nobara takes a bit too much pleasure in nailing the swarms of weak curses that had greeted you at the entrance, Yuuji laughing at how easily his fists send them to a rather unpleasant demise. Yet, you can’t shake the feeling of unease that settles over you. This is too easy for a promotion mission. What were they hiding?

Then Megumi opens the doors to what would’ve been the emergency room, and all hell breaks loose.

Bloodstains, bright red, catch your eye first. They’re splattered all over the room, on the floor, curtains, and on the hospital sheets yellowed with age. You see the bones next. Human; skulls, ribcages, femurs, all picked clean and white enough to shine under the fluorescent lighting. The light flickers. A tumorous mass sits in the center of the room, a conglomeration of hair, teeth, and eyes that blink slowly at you. Your spine stiffens, and immediately, you pull Megumi towards you as a ropelike strand of hair tightens around the spot where he was standing.

Those fuckers. A Semi-Grade 1?

“Megumi,” is all you can make out. In the hallway, you can hear something more menacing, something equally as terrible as what sits in the room inside with you. You can hear Nobara’s cry of pain as a nauseating crack rips through the air. They won’t survive without him. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes widen in understanding a fraction too late as you gather all your energy and shove him back out into the corridor as the curse flings a file cabinet at you. It crashes into the door, and you can hear Megumi calling your name with something that sounds like desperation. The hinges rattle as he throws his weight against it, but the cabinet holds firm. When you turn to face the curse in front of you, the look in its eyes is amused as you draw your blade. A cavernous maw opens, splitting it down the center as misshapen lumps of flesh spill out. Smaller curses, remnants of the innocents it had lured and devoured. A sudden chill goes through your body.

This isn’t a Semi-Grade. This is a full-fledged Grade 1.

There’s something vicious in the way you move, tearing through cursed spirits as though they’re paper. Ichor stains the ground around you, as red as the blood you channel through your veins. Dimly, you think you’re screaming. It was a set up, you think desperately. Of course the higher-ups would try to kill Itadori Yuuji at any cost. They didn’t give a fuck about you, or Nobara, or Megumi. Fury fills the cavern of your chest as you lunge for the hulking Grade 1, as it grotesquely pushes out the corpse of one of its victims into something far more sinister. You rip it to shreds without a second thought.

The sound of steel on flesh makes the hair of your arms rise as you finally manage to cut a nasty gash into the misshapen curse in front of you. It howls in pain, tendrils reaching for your body as you leap away. Instead, the tendrils open the serrated wound a bit further, opening a new pocket for its children to crawl out of. That was the first blow you’d been able to land; ten minutes have passed since you trapped yourself inside a room with it. Will you make it out alive? You shake the thought away angrily.

Gritting your teeth, you increase your blood flow, shooting it down to your legs and the fibers of your muscles. Your blade shines as it cuts down curses, the Grade 1 merely watching with a demeanor that you can only describe as bored. It’s toying with you, you realize, but what pricks your heart isn’t fear, but resignation. Your foot catches on the rubble for only a moment, and the Grade 1 moves, slamming you into the wall with enough force for you to feel your ribs shatter. Blood fills your mouth and you choke, lungs heaving. Punctured, your technique tells you, a liter gone. The air tastes like iron and salt, and you realize with a start that you’re dying.

You feel oddly calm as the world spins, watching as the ropes of hair approach your prone body. The last thing you see is the door shattering open, and the look in Megumi’s eyes as he sees you. There’s terror in his normally stoic expression, his arm outstretched towards you as Nue dives for you. Nobara and Yuuji are moving, but all you can see is him. His hands are bloodied at the fingertips, as though he’d been clawing at the door with his own hands to pry it open, his lips moving soundlessly. There’s a dull ringing in your ears, the toll of death that signals your end. His hand cups your face, and you allow yourself to lean into it for a moment, reveling in the touch. I could die like this, is your final thought as you succumb to your injuries. I’m happy that you’re holding me, Megumi.

The world around you feels muted, when you finally awaken. Your vision is blurred as you peel your eyelids back, and you wince at the sensation. How long have you been out for? Slowly, the blurred tinges of light start to focus. A lamp, dimly lit to your right on the nightstand next to a pitcher of water and an empty cup. A punctured lung, a liter gone. Your hand drifts to the bandages that wrap your chest, carefully letting your cursed technique scan your body. A few lacerations, but for the most part you were fine. Crisp sheets rustle as you sit up, examining your surroundings. The hospital in the infirmary. Somehow, they managed to bring you back.

Megumi’s eyes, so desperate and lost as his hand reached for you.

You try not to think about it, as you carefully test your body. Your limbs ache, but that’s to be expected. Your hair has been neatly pulled away from your face; Nobara’s work, no doubt. Her screams from behind the door, the dread in your chest when you realized they might not survive without Megumi. You watch your fingers shake as you reach for the water, letting it soothe away the pain in your throat. Did she even make it? Did they live?

The door opens, startling you from your thoughts. Megumi stands in the doorway, hand pushing through his hair. You take a moment to examine him, noting the dark circles under his pale skin, and how his long hair seemed mussed. His eyes scan the room, passing over you before focusing on you with startling clarity.

“You’re awake.”

Hesitantly, you nod, as he drops into the seat beside you. “Did…did they…”

He cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence. “Kugisaki and Itadori are fine.”

You stare down at your hands, letting the silence wash over you. Yet, you’re dimly aware of how suffocating it feels, how your shoulders were unable to relax even with the knowledge that your friends were alive and safe. Megumi continues to watch you, but before you can say something, anything, his voice fills the air, terse and clipped.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Startled, your eyes meet his. “What?”

“Did you think I was too weak? That I couldn’t handle it just because you’ve been a Grade 2 longer than I have?” The eyes that normally watched you with a hint of affectionate exasperation were cold, and hard. “You behaved recklessly. Did you even think about how it impacted the rest of us? Because of you, Kugisaki broke her leg, and Itadori almost had his arm cleaved off. You did all of that just for the rest of us to find you half dead in a puddle of your own bones and blood.”

“Stop it,” you whisper, but Megumi’s voice only twists into something far more cruel. “You thought you were being so brave, sacrificing yourself, only to realize that you weren’t that special. You couldn’t even take down that Grade 1 alone. Kugisaki had to save you, even as she was practically screaming from the pain.”

“Megumi,” you whisper, and he pauses, clearly unused to his name falling from your lips. “Why are you so angry at me?” Your voice breaks ever so slightly and you bite your lip hard enough to taste blood, ashamed at the wetness in your eyes. “Where is this coming from? I don’t understa-”

He slams his palm against the wooden surface of your bedside table, rattling the drawers. “Are you really that stupid to ask what you did wrong? You fucked up. I thought you were different, but in reality, you’re no better than the rest of your clan, are you? You’re just another filthy Kamo.”

Your hands shake as you twist them into the off-white infirmary sheets. “What are you talking about?”

Megumi laughs, but it’s jaded, sharp. “Congratulations. You’re being promoted to a Semi-Grade 1, all because of your little stunt that landed the rest of us into hospital beds. Even though we all had to help you finish it off, they’re only choosing you. I wonder why.”

“Megumi.” Your voice rises, as your heart finally shatters. “I did it because I thought you would die, you know that. I don’t give a fuck about the politics of the higher ups, or my clan, or even my grade. I just wanted to protect you all. You know that.”

He rises from the chair next to your side, expression indifferent to the tears that are rolling down your cheeks. “As if I’d believe you.”

“Megumi,” you call out, desperately, as he walks away. “Megumi!”

He doesn’t look back, and you’re left alone in the dark with only the moon to bear company as you sob. I don’t understand, you think, deliriously. Can’t you see that I love you? Can’t you see I’d rather die than watch you break in front of me?

Megumi barely makes it to the lawn before he retches into the bushes. Bile rises in his throat and he squeezes his eyes shut as he replays the moment over and over and over again. For five days, he’d held vigil at your bed. For five days, he realized that your love for him would get you killed. For five days, he’d wrapped his heart in iron, knowing that what he was about to do would break the both of you. I would’ve only gotten you killed, he thinks, numbly. It’s what landed you here in the first place.

Yet, Megumi can’t stop recalling the exact moment the relief in your eyes had turned into betrayal, how your lips had trembled and your hands shook. Your voice, desperate and pleading, calling his name as he forced his legs to walk away from you. How he can hear your sobs faintly trailing from the windows above, matching the tears that are trailing down his cheeks.

You’ll hate him forever, he thinks, dazed, as he forces himself onto his feet. You’ll hate him forever, and by god it’ll be the most painful thing he’s ever experienced, but as long as you’re alive he can bear it. As long as he never has to see you there again, laying in a heap of your own blood, eyes dazed and unseeing, he will carry the sins that it takes to keep you alive and away from him.

I love you. I love you, and I’m sorry that someone like me ever fell for someone like you. I love you so much that the thought of being without me tears me to shreds. I love how you take care of my shikigami like they're your own. I love how every touch you give me heals something that I didn't know I was missing. I love you, and I need you to live more than I need air to breathe.

I love you, and even though I don't think you'll ever forgive me, I'll always follow wherever you go.

#haerinwrites #megumi x reader #megumi x you #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk x reader angst #i would like to apologize in advance #that is all </3

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rosyhoneydew · 3 months ago

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As Long As You'll Have Me

My entry for day 3 of @bucktommywhumpweek - "You act like you’re expendable. But you’re wrong." | Prompts: Abandonment issues // Forced to leave the other behind

This is pretty brief whump but hopefully it still fits the prompt :)

"Are- Are you going somewhere?" Buck asks, there's a hollow kind of deja vu setting in when he steps into their bedroom to see Tommy packing a small duffle. "You're home!" Tommy says, startling and turning to face Buck. "Yeah, Ravi picked up the rest of my shift. Said he could use the extra hours." Normally he'd walk right up to his boyfriend, kiss him hard, maybe show him exactly how much he missed him during his shift. But right now Buck can't move from the doorway. Because Tommy's packing a bag. "I, uh, thought you'd be a little while still," Tommy says, something like a guilty smile on his face. And Buck... he's not exactly sure what's going on here but he can feel his face getting hot and his heart rate speeding up. He thought things were good with them. Is Tommy not happy? Did he miss the signs? Again? "Hey," Tommy says, "you okay?" "Are you leaving?" Buck asks in lieu of a response. It comes out a little harsher than he planned, but he's focused on not doing something like crying and begging his boyfriend to stay. Tommy sighs. “I wanted to surprise you,” he says, expression softening a bit. “You remember that I call I had up near San Bernadino?” Yes. A hiker’s mom called in when her daughter didn’t check in along the trail. She’d been out there for a few days at least. Buck remembers the look of relief on his boyfriend’s face when he got home that night, the girl dropped off at the hospital, safe and sound. “Turns out her mom’s got a place in Big Bear and she thought it would be nice to let me vacation there for a few days, as a thank you.” “Vacation?” “It was supposed to be a surprise,” Tommy says, smiling and making his way toward Buck. His lightly grabs Buck’s arms, about to lean in for a kiss before he stops. “Is everything alright?”

“Y- yeah, just…” Buck takes in the room before looking back at Tommy. “You’re not leaving me?” “Leaving you?” Tommy seems genuinely shocked by the prospect. “No, Evan, no. Why would you think that?” “Sorry, I’m sorry,” Buck says, shaking his head like he can dislodge the thoughts that way. Tommy rubs his arms and presses a light kiss to Buck’s cheek, seemingly content to wait until Buck is ready to talk. He takes the moment to let the pounding in his heart return to normal. He's not leaving, he's not leaving, he's not leaving. “You remember my ex I told you about, right? Abby?” Buck starts. Tommy nods. “That’s how I found out, when she was going to leave you know? I came home - I was living at her place then too - and her stuff was all in suitcases.” He pauses for a moment, remembering how he had believed her when she said it was just a trip. That she would be back for him. “At the time she had planned to come back, you know? Then she, umm, she didn’t.” Tommy’s looking at him like his own heart is breaking, and, shit, the last thing he wants is for Tommy to feel bad when he was just trying to plan a surprise for his boyfriend.

"I know you're not her," Buck clarifies quickly. "I just- I think I saw you packing and I didn't know where you were going and it kind of took my brain a second to catch up."

“Evan, I am so sorry,” Tommy starts. “I had no idea this would stir up those memories for you.” “Don’t apologize,” Buck says. “Of course you didn’t know. You were just doing something nice.” Tommy reaches up to rest his hand on the nape of Buck’s neck, softly brushing his thumb there and leaning his forehead against Buck’s. “I am not leaving you,” he says. “I will never leave you.” Buck huffs a little laugh at that, because, well, “You say that now.” Tommy leans back a bit to look Buck in the eye, “Evan,” he says, “I love you, and so long as you’ll have me, I will never leave you.” Oh. He means… is he saying… Buck lunges forward to wrap Tommy in a kiss, passionate and full of feeling. Tommy's right there to catch him, arms wrapped around him, letting Buck set the pace but never faltering at his intensity. “Let me try this again,” Tommy says with a smile when they part. “Evan, would you like to spend the weekend together in Big Bear? Just the two of us.” “Yes,” Buck says, only able to peel his eyes away from Tommy’s lips for a moment to say, “I love you.”

#bucktommy #911 abc #tevan #kinkley #bucktommy ficlet #tevan ficlet #what can I say I love an I love you moment

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wesstars · 1 year ago

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sorry, baby x (i)

wednesday addams x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: you’re friends-with-benefits with wednesday (maybe a bit more on your part,) and you can’t help but push her buttons a little. wc: 5.2k tags: explicit, MINORS DNI. nevermore ‘university,’ all characters are 18+. kinda ooc wednesday, top!reader and bottom!wednesday, light D/s dynamics, praise, boots, strap-on referred to as both ‘cock’ and ‘strap,’ crying, biting, denial, light choking, begging, reader shushing during sex, all that good stuff. a/n: i’m very rusty. please forgive me haha. title from killing eve. this iiissss inspired by/for someone, you know who you are ;) say hi if you find me!

read part two here!!

masterlist

The last class of the day was always the worst.

Even as the afternoon sun streamed in through the windows, casting the quiet classroom in a white gold glow, you could barely focus enough to remember what subject you were in. The instructor droned on about something or other—you were never the best at paying attention, relying on your subconscious and review session to get good grades. How could you listen when the lesson was just so boring, and you could steal the review from a certain Addams later on, anyway? You blinked slowly, trying to yawn discreetly. Calm was the atmosphere, as everyone was nearly falling asleep as the hour stretched on.

A note fluttered through the air to land gracefully in your lap.

Meet me after class.

Wednesday’s neat script, immediately recognized, made you grin, and you looked up. You spotted her, sitting next to Enid. Almost as if she could sense you looking, she spared a precious second from her notetaking to cut you a glare that could fell an army. You only laughed, covering your mouth to hopelessly hide your snicker.

The note had given you a bout of deja vu—it all started with a note, really. By virtue of you being Enid’s friend, you started in Wednesday’s peripheral circle, but you were always unafraid to confront her and eagerly prodded her to bicker with you. Enid would roll her eyes once the two of you would start again, but the way Wednesday’s neutral expression seemed to relax just a bit, made you think she didn’t mind as much.

The first time you gave her a friendly shove during a mock argument nearly had you apologizing, as she’d frozen as soon as your hand touched her shoulder. You didn’t want to actually cross her boundaries, but when she shoved you back, nearly pushing you into a bush, the ice was broken. Your friends now often had to give the two of you the wide berth as the arguments would escalate into shoving and chasing, and one time, almost a full out siege where you were to defend Jericho and Wednesday was to defend Nevermore.

All of the back and forth you two had was nearly as intense as you and Wednesday each were—she liked that about you. At least, that’s what you told yourself. She liked it enough to drop a note in your lap during class, some three months ago, asking you to meet her in an empty class “for warfare.” You had come with a knife hidden in your sleeve, but it ended up clattering to the floor as Wednesday pulled you in by your tie and bluntly asked you if she could kiss you. Before she could change her mind, you had kissed her hard enough for her own hidden knife to fall to the floor next to yours.

Wednesday Addams didn’t have friends. You, certainly, were not her friend, not in the way you touched her and not in the way she let you. Enid called you friends all the time, but she didn’t know about how Wednesday would pull you into a broom closet and push you down to your knees. You were sure that Wednesday would rather die than have a proper conversation about the… hooking up? late night meet ups? booty calls?? that the two of you were having. But you thought of her as your friend, and decidedly not anything more. You gave a lazy smile as you spotted Wednesday looking at you again. You knew why she had slipped you the note—the last time you’d been at her dorm room, rushing to give her an orgasm before Enid returned, you had stolen her favorite pair of Louboutin boots. You figured that the gods had given the two of you the same shoe size for a reason. No harm, no foul, right? Kicking your feet, you scuffed her shoes against the ground, knowing she could see them, knowing she could recognize them.

The sudden shuffling of books and scraping of chairs broke you out of your reverie. Class was dismissed, and you put away your supplies neatly, watching Wednesday leave first. She didn’t even look at you when she brushed past, but you knew she’d be waiting in the hallway outside. Sure enough, as you hitched your bag higher up on your shoulder, slipping your tie off, you spotted a head of raven dark hair amongst your classmates.

Wednesday looked at you evenly, ignoring all of the students filing out of the room. “You have what is mine.”

“Well, hello to you too,” you smiled brightly. Hearing her monotone voice always made your heart beat in technicolor, something chronic that you probably had to go to the infirmary for.

She only stared, eyebrows raising a centimeter. Turning to start towards the dorms, she waited for you to catch up to her before saying, “do not play dumber than you already are.”

You shrugged, wide eyed and used to her empty insults. “What do you mean? I’m innocent.”

“No one would ever accuse you of being innocent,” she shot back. “You are a thief, at best.”

“A thief?” You asked, in mock surprise. “What do you mean?”

She pointed down between the two of you, at the red-soled boots on your feet. “Give them back.”

You cackled, unable to keep up your façade any longer. “No.” You made a heart with your hands, winking at Wednesday through it.

Her hand collided, hard, with your wrist. Her grip was nearly painful, but you just smirked down at her. “I will only ask you once.” Her voice, still flat as usual, had a dangerous edge to it.

“Make me.” You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t help yourself. You were selfish, always forcing Wednesday’s attention to you. Even though you knew you probably annoyed her to no end, you didn’t know how to stop. Of course, if she ever told you to stop—seriously, not by way of her customary glare—you would.

You only just had time to finish your thought before Wednesday nearly tore your arm out of its socket, dragging you across the grounds towards your dorm room. How such a small girl was so fast, you had no idea. Before you knew it, you were in front of your room, with Wednesday reaching into your pants pocket to take out your keys and push you inside.

As soon as the door shut, you could visibly see Wednesday relax, which was saying something. You drew her smaller frame closer, wrapping your arms around her waist. She turned her head to tuck it into your neck, letting out the smallest sigh. Feeling her hand come up to grab the hem of your shirt, you leaned back a little.

“Wednesday.” At your beckon, she unfolded herself from your neck to look up, eyes as dark as wood immediately on your lips.

“This is not forgiveness,” she told you.

You reached for her bag, dropping it and yours to the ground. “Mmm,” you hummed as you tilted your head down to kiss her, slowly, enjoying the burn in your stomach as she kissed you back. “Maybe you’ll forgive me later, after I’m done with you.” She pulled away, giving you an unimpressed look.

“Arrogance does not become you.”

You just laughed, taking off your jacket, leaving you in your shirt, slacks, and last but not least, Wednesday’s very important boots. Leaning into her space, you nosed along her neck, nipping playfully with sharp teeth. You felt her arms drop back to her sides. “We’ll see about that, Weds.”

This time, she pushed into you first, all soft lips and razor teeth on yours. You sunk down, somewhere in the lowest deep as you kissed her, but your bliss was short lived, broken by your hiss of pain as she bit down on your tongue. Her hands were cold on the back of your neck, trapping you close, and you had no complaints. “Boots. Now.”

“If you want them back so bad,” you muttered, ducking your head to leave a dark bruise on her collarbone, “take them yourself.”

Wednesday put both hands on your shoulders, a glint in her eye the only warning you get. She pushed you, hard, so the backs of your knees hit the bed and you landed on your ass.

“Oooh, what’re you gonna do, Weds,” you goaded, even as she grabbed you by your shirt collar.

“I’ll take your ankles off with those shoes,” she snapped lowly, but she let you kiss down her neck again, that pale column of skin too hard for you to resist. You took your time, leaving murky violet constellations, and with each mark that you sucked into her jawline, you heard her breathing grow shakier.

“Alright,” you said amusedly. “Take them off, then.” You bit down on that spot on her neck while pushing her shoulders down, and she gave surprisingly easily, landing with a thud on her knees.

“Do not go too far,” she hissed, trying to push you off, but you kept her there, her narrow shoulders bracketed by your legs. Her gesture was empty; you were confident that she would simply throw you off if she wanted. The many times you’d ended up tossed across the room showed as testament.

“Sure,” you agreed easily. Leaning in, you whispered, “can I take this off?” You thumbed the lapel of her jacket.

She nodded her assent, even though you could tell she was plotting a way to get you back. You went slow, leaning over her as you slid her jacket off, kissing the crown of her head.

“Very good,” you whispered into her hair, loosening her tie. Wednesday attempted to suppress her shiver at your words, but you felt it anyway. It gave you the courage to go to her shirt, sliding the buttons open hesitantly. She straightened her back, showing you her simple but elegant black bra, which was probably from some niche French designer and worth more than the boots you stole.

But the look on her face as you slid your hands slowly into that expensive bra was priceless: her eyes shut, eyebrows furrowing the slightest bit as her lips parted. You squeezed gently, letting out a small moan of your own. She was so soft, and—

“You’re so perfect, Wednesday,” you growled unevenly in her ear, your composure slipping just a fraction. You sealed your lips with hers and thumbed her nipples, licking up against her teeth as soon as she let you. Breaking apart from her for one unbearable second, you stuck your fingers in her mouth, coating them in saliva. The affronted look on her face disappeared quickly as you pinched her nipples again with sticky fingers, the whine she let out going straight through you like whiskey.

She shuffled closer, seemingly content on her knees despite her earlier protest. Her grip was tight on your thighs, bordering on blissfully painful. Wednesday was nearly pulling you off the bed with how hard she was yanking you in to kiss her, teeth clacking with yours. She sat back on her heels and grabbed your ankle.

“What’re you doing?” You rolled her nipple between your fingers. “Finally getting your—”

You cut yourself off with a sharp inhale as she spread her legs, stocking covered knees sliding. She lifted your leg and planted your foot between her thighs, the heavy boot slamming into the ground. You raised an eyebrow, head swimming with the direction she was going.

Wednesday was a pretty picture in front of you, shirt open, chest flushed, skirt bunched up around her hips. Uncharacteristically demure, she leaned her cheek against your knee, palm sliding up your clothed calf.

“What?” She asked, her turn for faux innocence. “You said to do it yourself, did you not?” Wednesday shimmied forward, her chest up on your shin.

You felt her start to press up on the laces, something hot and slow, and your mouth went dry. Her knees spread more as she adjusted, her hand grabbing yours to place it on her cheek. She grabbed your belt loops, the pressure on your boot heavy. Just the mere idea of Wednesday’s pussy grinding against your—her—boots was something you could never imagine, but her shiver as she got settled made you nearly combust.

“You’re so needy, my girl…” the words slurred their way out of your mouth, likely more loving and adoring than you’d intended them to be.

“Looks like you’re the one fucking yourself,” she huffed out, a rare twisted grin gracing her face. Wednesday’s head tipped back again, a pleased little exhale falling from her lips as she pressed harder.

You cupped her jaw, pushing her shirt from her shoulder to bite, something possessive, with no inhibition, in you rising to the surface. “You do that to me, darling.”

You shift your boot closer to her, meeting her grinding circles, making her gasp and cry out your name. You were content to watch her like this, chasing her own high on you like some sinful temptation. With just the sound she was making, and her lip, bitten red, you knew she was getting her slick everywhere. Her breaths came harder with each time she pressed herself into the laces, her gentle rocking becoming more and more erratic. You almost wanted to see if she could cum like this, but as her eyes got hazier and her movements more erratic, you couldn’t help yourself.

“That's enough, Wednesday.” She barely has your clipped tone as a warning before you pull her off your boot, rough as you hoisted her up, but keeping your grip gentle.

“Come here.” Surprisingly, she did as you asked, throwing her clothes off with the air of a girl who knew what she wanted. You watched her, every inch she uncovered sending prickles of heat up your collar. Her panties, thin and damp, landed in your hand, and you knew she saw your jaw clenching when the corner of her mouth quirked up in the smallest of smiles.

You tucked the thin fabric into your pocket and reached for her, her cool skin soothing the burn in your chest. You turned her around to tuck her into you, sitting on your lap. Manhandling her easily, you could feel her muscles, taut from fencing, under your palms. You hooked her knees over yours, and spread your legs. Unable to resist a smirk at her sharp inhale, you kissed up her neck, scraping your teeth against the shell of her ear.

“You look like magic,” you murmured. “So good for me, Wednesday, letting me spread you open like this,” you continued, tilting her head to lean it back on your shoulder.

“Consider yourself lucky,” she rasped out as you mapped your hands along her ribs, sliding them down her tense stomach to grip her thighs, thumbs rubbing circles.

With each circle, you pulled your hands higher, close enough to her pussy that your fingers were sticky from her inner thighs. “Oh, I am.”

You cupped her pussy, already feeling her wetness coating your fingers. Forcing her legs wider, you rubbed up and down, purposefully avoiding her warmest spots as your other hand skimmed up to her chest. But you never were able to keep yourself from Wednesday for very long, testing your own patience as much as hers.

“Fuck,” you whispered, and as you pushed a finger in, her hand shot up to grab the back of your neck with a quiet oh. You crooked your finger, her slick making it easy on you. Letting your palm graze her clit with every motion, you smiled as her hips lifted, searching for more friction.

You take your time, knowing that Wednesday’s pussy was the softest thing you’d ever touched, and it was likely to remain that way. Pushing another finger in, you made sure to grind your palm against her clit every time you curled your fingers. Her soft noises were enough to have you on your knees, and you would’ve, if she didn't sigh out your name, getting your attention. She squeezed your fingers, jaw tight enough to creak.

“What is it, Weds?”

“I…” Wednesday cut herself off with a whine as your fingers twisted, the high sound shooting straight through your stomach. You beckoned with your fingers, hard, and she keened in your ear.

“I need you to fill me up.”

Her words snapped something already delicate inside of you. You took your fingers out, smearing her slick all on her hips as you flip her over. If you had it your way, you would be able to see her face, but you knew this was her favorite position. You saw her swallow in anticipation as you stepped briefly away from the bed, kicking off those catalytic boots and rummaging under your bed for you and Wednesday’s box.

Everything in the box you kept meticulously clean, knowing Wednesday’s routine of cleanliness. It would only be Wednesday Addams, a contradiction in her black heart, that loved to be as messy in your bed as she was clean in hers. You picked a black strap, one that you two used frequently. Pulling it on and adjusting it, you get on your knees behind her. For a moment, you watched her, captivated by the sight in front of you, grasping her hips. She arched her back, getting comfortable, as if you weren’t already trying not to fold and just take her like a ship to water.

You pushed yourself up against Wednesday, hips flush to her ass, letting the silicone glide against her clit. To her credit, Wednesday’s breath only came out the slightest bit shaky, even as you guided her thighs apart with a knee. You hummed as she pushed herself up onto her forearms to rock back, head turned to look at you. Wednesday had to grind down past your strap for her pussy to touch your thigh, and you laughed lowly as she flushed with the action. She froze.

“What’s wrong?” You rubbed a hand over her lower back, ready to pull away if she gave even the slightest signal.

“Do you…” she swallows, eyes flicking from you to some distant spot in the corner of the room. “Do you not want me to do that?”

For a second, you couldn’t believe your ears. There was a rush of indignation on Wednesday’s behalf, that she could ever think you wouldn’t love her desperation. Then, the wave of understanding broke over you—Wednesday wanted your approval, over an action that was decidedly un-Wednesday-like, and the final flick of her nervous gaze towards you told you that this was important.

You grabbed her hips, hard enough to leave shadows that you hoped you’d see tomorrow. Anything physical, Wednesday would undoubtedly best you, but this was something you could hold your own on. You pushed her pussy down onto the strap, onto the rough fabric of your slacks.

“Why would I ever not want you to show me how much you want it, mmm?” Your question was a growl wrought with satisfaction and a winner’s unapologetic glee, and the effort you put into your tone was worth the way the tension vanished from Wednesday’s eyes. She rolled her hips again, her Addams confidence returning, letting you guide her into a smooth rhythm.

“Besides,” you leaned forward, one hand letting go to come down a hair's breadth from Wednesday's nose. You folded yourself over her body, your tight grip still controlling her hips. “I know you can’t cum like this.”

The whine came unbidden from Wednesday’s throat, high and breathy and perfect. Nevertheless, her hips and keening gasps followed your even rhythm, and you saw her grip on the pillow go white-knuckled.

“I’m pleased with you, my dear. I do love to watch you suffer.” At your words, sunk roughly into her ears like cannonballs on kindling, Wednesday moaned, loud, into the space between the two of you. You ignored the burning torch that her sounds dropped into your lower stomach, choosing to murmur: “you can take it, right?”

“I can take it,” Wednesday whispered back, almost mindlessly. “I can take you,” she continued. “I want it.”

You settle back on your heels, satisfied. The sudden quickening of your heartbeat was only to do with your physical exertion, and nothing with how you felt for the girl under you. I can take you, not I can take it, I want it, not I want you.

You pull your thigh from under her roughly, making her yelp. Reaching around her narrow hips, you trailed your fingers down from her belly button to her clit, rubbing small circles. “Ready?”

Wednesday nodded, another whimper escaping at your touch.

“I need you to tell me yes, Weds.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

You push in, slowly, giving her body plenty of time to adjust. She was still prepped from your fingers earlier, but you didn’t miss the chance to gather her wetness and smear it against her clit. Wednesday was taking deep breaths beneath you, just like how you taught her the first time you two had used a strap. The rush of endearment you felt for her at that memory was distracting, you decided, and you pushed it away.

You slowed yourself down as your hips were once again up against her ass, hands moving to squeeze her shoulders. You saw her eyes shut tightly, the corners growing shiny. Wednesday always needed a moment once you put the strap in, something you were happy to give her.

She was still inhaling deeply, thighs trembling. “It…”

“It what?”

Wednesday opened her eyes; they were brimming with tears, dark lashes sticky. “It hurts…”

Your body tensed, already about to pull away, but with a surprisingly strong twist, she forced herself back onto you. A whimper rose high from her throat, and you had to take a breath to keep yourself from flipping her around to kiss her right then.

“Hurts good,” she whispered. You close your eyes, near involuntarily. Fuck, this perfect, perfect, girl would ruin you, just as much as you wanted to ruin her. You lean forward, pressing your chest into her back, forearm across her shoulder blades to ground her.

“How does it hurt, love?”

“It’s—I’m full,” Wednesday gasped out, glossy eyes sliding shut as you shifted on your knees, cock shifting inside.

“It fills you up, huh?” You breathed into Wednesday’s ear.

She nodded.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” she said, almost immediately. Experimentally, she swiveled her own hips around, and it made her hiss and bite her lip. “You fill me up.”

You exhaled through your nose, resisting the urge to just grab Wednesday and slam your cock impossibly deeper. “And?”

“And it’s good,” Wednesday whined out. “Hurts good.”

The knot in your chest loosened, the tension in your body broken like a wave. Surely, it wasn’t healthy to hang onto Wednesday’s every word the way that you did. You pulled out almost all the way, and snapped your hips forward, hard, burying yourself into her.

“Good girl.”

Wednesday let out a breath that bordered on a moan, and you smirked to yourself. Maybe she was right, and the arrogance was getting to your head, but you couldn’t help it. You set on a steady pace, gently brushing one of her braids aside to grasp the back of her neck. You felt yourself slipping into it, drunk on the way she let you touch her, your world tunneling down to just Wednesday—everything was Wednesday.

Every time you pushed in, it was punctuated by her gasps, and you could feel her breathing start to grow uneven. It stirred up something innately protective in you, for Wednesday. Her shoulders were shaking, tension pulling her taut.

“Wednesday, baby,” a pet name she would only tolerate in her hazy, lust filled state, “I need you to breathe for me, alright?” You slowed down, following your intuition on what she needed.

Still flush to her back, you listened to her stuttering inhales, deeper but not enough for her to catch her breath. “Shhh,” you cooed low into her ear, covering her eyes, and taking her hand, still tight on the pillow. “Breathe, my love.” Inexplicably, Wednesday let go of the pillowcase and intertwined your fingers, squeezing your hand and your heart tightly. She listened to you, for once, slowing down and softening her breaths. You could feel her tears on your palm, and you shushed her again, pressing kisses on her temple where her hair stuck to her forehead.

“Alright?” You slid your hand away, watching her eyes carefully.

She nodded. Skimming your fingers along her cheekbone, you let the warmth in your heart for the smaller girl seep into your words.

“Just say the word, Wednesday, and we’re done.”

“No,” she murmured back. “If you stop now, I’ll throw you out the balcony.” Though she was out of breath, a sticky, flushed mess under you, you had no doubt she’d follow through on her threat. You smiled.

You pick up your rhythm again, this time covering her smaller body with yours again to suck hickies into the back of her neck. Your other hand brushed down between her thighs to rub her clit in circles—she was so wet that it was hard to keep up with your thrusts, but it was worth the choked cry that escaped from her throat as you hit that spot, her fingers tightening around yours.

Wednesday arched her back into you, burgundy lips bitten blood red right before your eyes. “Keep going,” she told you. You had no intention of stopping, watching a flush bloom on her neck as you kept up your ruthless pace.

But despite that, you wanted to take your time with her. Every time she would tense up, you would slow down, making it impossible for her to reach that peak you knew she wanted. You forced yourself to slow down on both her pussy and her clit, just as she was starting to shake, and in spite of herself, she cried out in frustration, a tear slipping free.

“Sorry, baby.” Your tone edged on cruel, desperately needing to see how much she could handle. “I know you can handle it, just for me, okay?” Strap still fully inside, you bent to kiss the juncture of her neck, lips and teeth leaving a bruise. Her skin was hot to your touch, even though your shirt. You bit down again, matching all of your other marks that graced her skin.

Wednesday whined again, inhibition cracking faster by the second. “Don’t stop…”

“Don’t stop what?” You asked, voice turned mocking. “Use your words.” You reached up to clasp the back of her neck, rubbing the tension out. “And be good.”

Her breath quickened, and she squeezed her eyes shut as another tear rolled through her mascara. “Don’t stop…”

“C’mon,” you cajoled, hand coming around her neck to squeeze her throat. “C’mon, my love.”

“Please… don’t stop fucking me.” The words tumbled out in a rush, and she mewled as you nuzzled your lips against her shoulder, your fingers starting up on her clit again.

A shiver shot up your spine, making you curl protectively around Wednesday, the hot burn of possessiveness, to mark her again, near unbearable.. “Anything you want, darling.” You slammed back into her, hard enough to push the both of you up the bed. One of her hands grasped at your forearm, pulling your grip from her neck. She wrapped your arm across her shoulders. Your breathing came hard, but you didn’t stop, each whine in your ear making your head spin. You had no idea how much time was passing, or if it was even night or day; your entire world was hazy and fuzzed with raven black.

“I’m—” Wednesday cut herself off, biting down on your arm for a moment, leaving a smear of lipstick.

You let out a noise that was more of a growl than anything. “Let me hear you, baby.”

She gasped when you pressed a hand to her lower stomach, briefly feeling the bulge there from your cock, before going back to her clit. You didn’t pause, each thrust pushing Wednesday closer to the edge. “Use your teeth,” she choked out, her cheeks flushing. “Now, please.”

You complied, eager. Scraping your canines down her ear, you stopped at a tender spot behind her pulse point, the skin already marred with purple and red. A sailor’s delight, you thought, a bit hysterically. You sank your teeth in, not holding back, knowing she wanted it. The effect was near immediate; her eyes slid shut, and her body tensed against yours, an unrestrained sob tumbling out from her lips. She reached for you, nails digging into your arm. Your hands shook, all of her tightening the coil in your stomach. Wednesday’s orgasm crashed down, and it shattered something in you, deep and addictive.

Far down in you, below what you were willing to admit, Wednesday’s unknowing grip on your heart tightened even more. You felt like you’d just jumped off your own edge, inevitable as the eternal separation of sun and moon.

“I came,” Wednesday’s voice was a ragged whisper, a ghost of her earlier whimpers ringing in your ears.

“You did, my love,” you shushed, gently sliding your cock out, catching Wednesday as she seemed to melt into the bedsheets with no support. You guided her into her back, relishing in the way she trustingly let you. Tucking the strap away to clean later, you massaged her thighs, thinking they’d be sore later. She seemed to be in a daze, dark eyes fogged with the afterglow. Her cheeks were streaked with mascara from her tears, and the rims of her eyes were a fuschia pink. You’d never seen anything more beautiful.

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve said that her gaze behind her slow blinks as she watched you was just as possessive as you were. You did know better, you swore, but it didn’t stop you from nuzzling your face into her stomach, intoxicated on the smell of her arousal, delaying the clean-up for just a moment longer.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” You teased, unsure if she could even hear you. You smoothed her fringe off her forehead, already moving to sit up and get her a bottle of water. But before you could move, Wednesday’s hand grabbed your wrist with lighting speed, a shadow of the earlier afternoon.

She cracked an eye open, and though her eyes were shot red, there was a challenging shine, blade in moonlight, there. “Who says you’re done?”

reader: i fuck her good but i don’t think she likes me back :(

wednesday: if you don’t hold me right now i Will murder

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, or take from my work in any way without express permission. thank you!

masterlist

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outsideratheart · 10 months ago

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You Should Have Told Me (Alexia Putellas x reader)

Being away from Alexia was never easy. In fact it got harder as time went on. Luckily for you it didn’t happen often, only really when you went back to Australia whether it be for national team camp or to be with family. This time was the latter.

Like always, you and Alexia spoke to each other and found a way for it to work with the time difference. You were getting into bed and tried calling Alexia but she didn’t answer. You thought she might be busy so you text her and wait for a respond only one doesn’t come.

When you wake up the next morning you find the reason for her radio silence. A tweet which makes you feel sick.

Alexia Putellas will undergo arthroscopy surgery on 27th December.

You are filled with worry but you are also mad at your girlfriend. Why on earth were you finding this out in the internet and not by the woman herself.

Despite your mixed emotions you find yourself on a flight back to Barcelona after a length apology to your family. Funnily enough they knew it was coming as soon as they saw the news. They had only met Alexia once but the love you had for her was evident. They saw it on your face every time her name popped up on your phone.

It was the 27th by the time you arrived home or to your other home. Everyone was well aware of your relationship with Alexia so the nurses didn’t question it when you arrived at the hospital asking for her whereabouts.

“Y/N” Alba greets you with a warm hug “Alexia didn’t tell us you were coming”

“Clearly Alexia is going through a not telling people stuff phase”

Alba swallowed deeply. Your annoyance was clear and if that wasn’t a telling sign, you calling her sister by her full name was.

“Y/N I didn’t—“ Eli joins the two of you in the hall but stops talking mid sentence when she sees her youngest daughter shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t mama”

“She is in there” Eli point the door behind her “she didn’t want—“

Again she was cut off, this time by you.

“Don’t fight her battles Eli. She knew what she was doing. Feliz Navidad by way” you kiss both women on the cheek.

The two of them watch you enter Alexia’s room.

“You two need a lesson in manners. You know it’s rude to interrupt people” Eli says to Alba given that you are in the hospital room.

You get a sick sense of deja vu when you enter the room Alexia’s in. The same happened last summer and you stayed by her side for the entire thing. It’s why now didn’t make sense. You looked up the surgery, it was minor. Why didn’t she want you here now but happily had you with her then.

Alexia pays no attention to you when you enter and although she is there physically you can tell her mind is far away.

“I know I’m not your emergency contact but I would of thought being your girlfriend earned me a call or at least a text”

This got her attention. It was a good job she was already at the hospital because the speed in which she turned her head could have given her whiplash.

“Mi amorcito”

“Alexia”

Her faces changed at this. You could almost see her wince at the formalness.

“I deserve that” she knows she did wrong by not telling you. Still, she pats the space next to her hoping that you’ll join her on the bed.

She watches each step you take, you get closer to her but stop at the foot of her bed.

“What? I don’t get a hug? I am in the hospital” she tries to get you to crack a smile but fails miserably.

“Repeat those last 4 words”

“I am in the hospital” she is slightly confused because you clearly heard her.

“We have been through a lot together Alexia. Yesterday you told me everything was fine, the medics had given you a green light and that you were packing for the trip. You lied”

“Y/N I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted —“

“Miss Putellas it’s time” one of her doctors come in.

“Give me a minute” Alexia doesn’t ask, she demands “I’m in the middle of something”

“No. Take her. We’re done here”

At first Alexia panics. What did you mean by we’re done here. It sounded almost like a break up but before you leave you walk over and kiss her temple. It was a small sign that you were not breaking up with her.

Her eyes remain on you as you walk out the door. Her mother steps in her eye line and Alexia recognises the look on her face; she is in trouble.

“You didn’t tell her, idiota!” Alba appears from behind their mother.

“Alba not now”

“No Mija, she’s right. When you wake up you need to fix this. That girl is the best thing to happen to you and you know that you should have told her. Alexia, she is your girlfriend she had a right to now”

“Por Dios! I know I messed up. I thought I was doing the right thing”

Alexia truly did think that. You had been with her to every physio appointment since the champions league game. You hadn’t been back in Australia long when the decision was made for her to get surgery. You had played the most minutes this season so far and for the sake of your own health you needed to rest, to recover.

She wanted you with her and truth is she needed you with her but she sacrificed that solace for you.

The surgery took two hours which is within the predicted time or least that’s what Google told Alexia when she looked it up. She woke up and saw two woman, neither of them the one she wanted to see.

“She left, didn’t she?” Alexia looked defeated as she came to.

“She did” Alba replied with a wicked grin on her face.

“But then she came back” Eli told the whole truth.

Alexia watched as her mum and sister stepped aside revealing you curled up on the chair fast asleep.

“I think the jet lag must have caught up with her. I saw the girl drink three double espressos but even they couldn’t help fight the urge to sleep” Eli explained.

Your girlfriend knew the battle all too well. She saw the way the time difference affected you when you travelled for international camp. Sleep always won in the end.

“Do you think she’ll forgive me?” Alexia asks her mother specifically only to earn a response from her sister.

“Of course she will. Y/N loves you and I’m talking the type of love dad had for mama. I think you’re stupid for not telling her but knowing you, you probably thought you were doing the right thing”

“No, she was being stupid” your raspy voice gained the attention of all three Putellas women.

“I was and I’m sorry”

You and Alexia were given some privacy.

“I am sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to hurt you”

“What did you think would happen? I found out my girlfriend would be having surgery on twitter. Strangers found out the same time as me”

“I wanted you here with me but you needed to be with your family“

“I needed to be with you. I love you and nobody comes above you Ale.”

“But you were supposed to be in Australia. You had plans to spend new year in Sydney. It had been planned all year”

“You’re wrong Alexia. We were supposed to be in Australia. We had plans to spend new year in Sydney. We planned it together. I don’t care where I am as long as I am with you”

“I should have told you”

“Yes, you should have. Are you able to squeeze up? I’ve had enough of being mad at you”

Alexia knows that she’s strong enough to move and does so happily. She would do anything if it meant having you beside her. It came as no surprise that you were the little spoon in the relationship so Alexia naturally holds you close.

“I’m scared Y/N. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I had the surgery and I put in the work. I was back and now look at me. I’m back at the beginning again”

“No you’re not. This isn’t like it was before. Your knee is stronger now. I called the physio on my way to the airport and he told me everything. The surgery was only an investigation”

“Would you still loved me if I’m not as good as before? If I never win another balón d’Or?”

“Alexia Putellas Segura, what silly questions those are. I loved you long before you won your first and I will love you long after you hang up your boots. I fell for the person, not the player and you’ll do good to remember that”

Alexia took a moment to take in what you had said. Her greatest fear was that you’d leave her but deep down she knew that wouldn’t happen. Your words only reiterated this.

“Did you return the outfit? Nurse Y/N might be needed again”

You jokingly gasped at her suggestion. When you look up you see that her eyes have darkened slightly. She did love you in that criminally short costume.

“I think I have it somewhere” you cup her cheek and Alexia leans into your touch.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona femeni one shot #espwnt x reader #espwnt one shot #espwnt imagine

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aetherdoesthings · 4 months ago

Text

a new job

forethoughts: i'm currently on a train going to my next location and my head is light and i feel like puking as i'm typing this because someone has terrible motion sickness :D. anyways apologies if the quality of work isn't of the same as my previous ones; i am running on a glass of sparkling water. also apparently i'm only a few followers away from 300, so you know what that means...

notes: fem!reader, botanist!reader, arlecchino being a good father

Arlecchino trekked through the bustling streets of Fontaine, her crimson eyes gleaming at anyone who dared to stare for too long. She tuned out the sounds of random Fontainians whispering and saying her name to one another, instead focusing on her task at hand. In her hands was a bouquet of romaritime flowers and rainbow roses, all fresh and handpicked by herself. One more bouquet, and her collection would be complete. After that, she’d be off to the Opera Epiclese to watch her children graduate. The thought alone of Lyney, Lynette and Freminet graduating was enough to bring a smile to the Knave’s face, but she kept her poker face on, keeping her excitement and happiness to herself.

The Harbinger stepped into the flower shop, admiring the bouquets set out on the stands as she stepped into the building, ignoring the bees that fluttered around.

“Hi! How may I help you?” Arlecchino’s muscles tightened at the sudden sound, before relaxing when her eyes landed upon the source of the sound. You were standing in front of the Harbinger, wearing a simple white dress. It didn’t help the Harbinger relax when she saw your jade eyes and a white headband on your head.

“And you are..?” The Harbinger mustered the question out of her mouth, a wave of deja vu washing over her.

“I’m Y/N, the owner of this flower shop!” You smiled at the Knave, not a single drop of fear in your heart as you faced the woman that could end your life just by looking at you. “Is there anything you’re looking for? Or picking up an order?”

“Well… I would like to purchase a bouquet of lumidouce bells.” Arlecchino cleared her throat.

“Alright!” You walk towards your collection of lumidouce bells, picking up a bouquet for Arlecchino. “Here you go!”

“Right. Thank you.” Arlecchino took the bouquet of lumidouce bells, juggling it with her other two bouquets. She reached into her pocket, fetching out her wallet.

“T-That’s alright. I couldn’t possibly charge the Knave for some little Mora.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“I insist. How much, clerk?” Arlecchino waited for your response.

“U-Um, sixteen Mora.”

Sixteen? For a bouquet this size? Arlecchino thought to herself.

“Take it all.” Arlecchino handed you a pouch of Mora, leaving it in your hand. “There are at least six thousand Mora in there.”

The Knave’s thin lips curled upwards at the sight of your jaw ajar, staring at the Harbinger’s pouch of Mora as if you had the whole world in your hand.

“I-I couldn’t possibly-”

“Take it. These lumidouce bells look to be in excellent condition compared to other shops who bargained for a higher price. You are quite the modest person, are you?”

You look at the Harbinger with a sheepish look, as you made your way to the counter, the Harbinger’s money still in your hands as your shaking fingers click on a few buttons on the machine, printing the receipt for the Harbinger. “I… just like to make people happy, really. I like my lifestyle. It can be better, yeah, but I’m happy with where I’m at.”

“I see.” Arlecchino made her way towards you, standing on the other end of the counter.

While the two of you were waiting for the receipt to print, you chirped. “May I ask why you have three bouquets of flowers?” Arlecchino looked at the bouquets of flowers she had, adjusting how she held them to assure the best quality of all three of them. “My children are graduating tonight.”

Arlecchino’s heart churned at the sight of your smile and glimmer in your eyes. “That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for them!”

“Thank you.” Arlecchino replied, looking at each bouquet, the recipient’s faces flashing in her head, which only fuels her pride and joy.

“Say, I noticed you have romaritime flowers on you. As an advice, romaritime flowers are found underwater, meaning they thrive being submerged in water. It is advised you drench them in water to keep them healthy and alive. Here.” You grab a spray bottle of water, pressing down on the trigger ever so slightly, letting a sprinkle of water hit the romaritime flowers. In an instant, the colors brighten, as if it was brought back to life. Arlecchino’s eyebrow raised at the sight, fascinated by the newfound knowledge in botany.

“Did you study botany while you were at school, clerk?” Arlecchino asks, as you set the spray bottle down.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Arlecchino couldn’t stop herself grinning at the sound of you calling her ‘ma’am.’ “Arlecchino. Call me Arlecchino.”

“Okay. Yes, Arlecchino. I did study botany!” You smiled, proud of your hard work and achievement.

“Interesting.” An idea formulates in Arlecchino’s head, as she studied your figure once more. The receipt was printed, as you handed it over to Arlecchino.

“Well, have a fun time at the graduation ceremony! I wish the best for your children!” You exclaimed, the corners of your mouth shooting up to your lips as your eyes met Arlecchino’s crimson ones.

“Hmn.” Arlecchino walked out of your store, the faint rustle of the bell filling up the empty space. The Harbinger made her way to the Opera Epiclese, a thin smile on her face as her mind pondered about you and your profession, then about the children at the House of the Hearth.

You were about to close your store and head home, when spiders crawled up your spine, the hair on your body rising and your muscles tensing up. Alarm and panic raced through your mind as you whipped your head around, scanning the dark streets of Fontaine for any sign of your source of fear.

“I have a proposition for you.”

A scream was ripped from your throat as you jumped, stumbling a few feet back as your eyes zoned in onto the voice. The Fourth Harbinger stood at where you once were, half of her body cloaked by the shadow, only a fraction of her body exposed in the light.

“A-Arlecchino.” You stammered, your mind still in flight or fight mode.

“Don’t be scared. I’m not here to harm you. Rather, help you.” The Knave took a step towards you, her eyes telling you no secrets or revealing anything whatsoever about her plan. You took a deep breath, nodding your head as you composed yourself.

“I want you to be a teacher in the House of the Hearth. To teach the students about botany. I believe it will be useful for the children to know about nature and the world around them, help them survive and grow used to being in nature’s terrain.” Arlecchino announced. “Naturally, I will pay you a sum of Mora monthly, and provide you with the basic amenities you require.”

Your jaw dropped to the ground, your soul headed for the other direction. “You want me to teach kids about plants?”

“Yes. Starting next week. I will provide for your travel necessities to arrive at the House safely.”

“I’m not sure if I’m really qualified to teach-”

“Did I stutter?” A crimson glow emanated from those dark pools. You gulped, nodding your head, accepting the Harbinger’s offer. The darkness in her face disappeared, replaced by a thin smile as she dipped her head at you.

“I shall see you then. Have a good night.”

“Have… a good night.” You mumbled out, watching the Harbinger disappear into the streets of Fontaine. With Arlecchino out of your sight, your shoulders slumped, as you turned the key, allowing yourself to step away from your store and be one with the dark as well.

Maybe getting that degree wasn’t so useless after all.

#genshin impact #arlecchino genshin #the knave #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino #aetherwrites #botanist

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chimcess · 26 days ago

Text

Nachash || jhs

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (ft. Taehyung) Genre: Supernatural AU, Demon!Hoseok, Med Student!Reader, Smut, One night stand, Angst, Horror AU, Incubus! Hoseok, 90s AU, Yandere!AU Rating: 18+ (don’t interact if you’re a minor) Word Count: 21.4k+ Summary: After the loss of both of her parents, Y/N decided to sell their home in Florida and move back to New York City, a place that she has little memories of despite 10 years of living in Harlem. Her world begins to shift, and she starts to lose sight of dreams and reality, and at the center of it all is Hoseok, a sweet man who gives her a strange sense of deja vu, but she can’t help but wonder if he is who he says he is and why a strange bar keeps popping up in her nightmares. Warnings: Strong language, bad medical terminology (I tried), Hoseok has a demon side (like physically different), main character (somewhat) death (graphic), graphic violence, reader slowly losing her mind, heavy religious themes in a large chunk of this, explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, manhandling, hard dom Hoseok, so much blood, low-key a yandere but not really, blood play, blood drinking, begging for life, extreme emotional manipulation, growling, over stimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it up), DARK ENDING, dubious consent (mind control/mood control/literally cannot leave Hoseok's presence), reader is severely mentally ill by the end of this, demonic possession, Stockholm syndrome, this is not a cute demon romance, read at your own risk, stopping here since there’s a lot just let me know if I missed anything A/N: After posting a teaser for this fic two years ago, I finally got around to finishing it! I’m still working on my smut skills, so I apologize in advance, but I hope you can get down with my favorite (and extremely evil) demon man. Happy Halloween (or, to my fellow Pagans, Happy Samhain)!

Prologue || Listen to the Playlist || Cross posted on AO3: here

Nachash (noun) "snake; serpent". Derived from the Hebrew root n-ch-sh.

July 1997

"How are you feeling?"

I sighed, pulling open another box. Unpacking was always the worst part of moving, like some cosmic joke designed to break you down piece by piece. Plates stared back at me from the box, and I clenched my jaw. The one on top was chipped—another thing on my growing list of replacements. I pulled it out and set it aside, determined to deal with it later. The rest of the plates went away in the cabinet. The broken one would be tossed.

"I don't know," I confessed. "Mom died. I'm everywhere."

My brother's hum of acknowledgment was all I heard. Miles had always been a quiet, distant sort, barely speaking to our parents. Their deaths hit him hard, but more so with Dad than Mom. Dad had been the stable one, while Mom was a relentless storm—never satisfied, constantly pushing, always demanding. To her, a doctor and a lawyer weren't enough. Miles had always seen her as aggressive, unyielding, and ever discontented. And Dad? Well, his complacency had its own way of grating.

Miles had moved to Oregon right after graduating from FSU, never looking back. We'd made the trek to see him a few times, but he'd never returned the favor. My stint in New York had mended our relationship somewhat. He visited frequently and spent his summers with me, and after Dad passed, he made a point to see Mom at least once a year. I didn't mind the trips to Portland; my Jacksonville home had become his family's vacation spot.

"So am I," he said, his voice betraying a hint of fatigue.

They'd been at each other's throats, arguing constantly, with his wife loathing Mom. Yet, I knew Miles held some affection for her despite their tumultuous relationship. He'd never truly made her proud, and that haunted him. I understood, but when I moved back home, the dynamics shifted. Mom used me as a weapon against Miles, making me the favored child, the one who came back. Miles was the ungrateful one who'd married the wrong woman.

Mom always blamed Trinity for Miles' "bad attitude." Dad knew better. I knew better.

"So," Miles shifted gears, "when can we come and visit?"

I smiled, "I'll be out there for Thanksgiving and Christmas. So maybe next summer?"

"That's a long wait."

I chuckled, "Well, Rory starts school this year and Trinity's pregnant. You're just as busy as I am."

I'd been the one with the most on my plate for years. Mom, a real estate agent, rarely left home, while Dad ran a plumbing company. When Miles went to college, I was knee-deep in medical school applications. During my residency, Miles was grinding through law school. When I moved back to Florida, I was buried in ICU shifts while he graduated and started his own practice. He met Trinity, and the two became inseparable. Mom despised her, but I saw how they brought out the best in each other. My career-driven life had left me disconnected, and while Mom reveled in it, I resented it.

Kids changed everything for them. Aurora was their miracle baby. Trinity had struggled with fertility for years, and when they finally had a child, it was as if their world had transformed. My brother was spent, and Mom's resentment boiled over. She was always bitter that they hadn't uprooted their lives back to Florida for the grandchild. By then, Miles didn't care. He'd made the trips for Dad but after Mom's cruel comments about Trinity's weight and their daughter being "too pretty" to be her granddaughter, Aurora never set foot in the family home again.

"Aurora is driving me crazy," Miles groaned. "She won't stop talking about the baby."

"As a big sister, I can tell you she's just being a normal kid."

"I know that," I could almost hear his eye roll. "I'm just worried. It's still early, and I don't want her hopes to get too high. Trinity's scared of another miscarriage."

It would be her sixth.

"Try to stay positive, bub," I bit my lip, surveying the cluttered room. I'd never finish today. "If it happens, it happens. But don't go into it expecting the worst."

"Between Mom and this…" He trailed off.

I understood his fear. Trinity was a few years older than me, and her anxiety was palpable. At 38, any pregnancy brought its own set of worries. Last I heard, Trinity was considering getting her tubes tied if this one didn't make it. The heartache was becoming unbearable.

"Hey," I kept my tone gentle, knowing that riling him up wouldn't help. "Keep your head up. Her next appointment is soon. Ensure she's sticking to bedrest, and you'll be fine."

"What if it happens again?"

My heart broke for him. Miles had always been the rock, the one who seemed unshakeable. Seeing him this vulnerable starkly contrasted with the angry kid he'd been in high school. Mom had pushed his buttons mercilessly, and I had vague memories of our squabbles, but they paled compared to the constant battles he faced with her.

I wondered if he ever grasped how I felt. He always thought Mom liked me more, but it was more about her being able to overlook me. While he fought for her attention, nothing I did ever really mattered. It was like a fog followed me, obscuring me from their view. Sometimes, it would lift, and Mom would acknowledge me, but then it would return, and I was forgotten.

"You'll get through it," I assured him.

We chatted a bit more. Aurora was excited about kindergarten and had picked out new uniforms. She was obsessed with Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, and her new backpack reflected that. She'd even given her Prince Wednesday stuffed animal to the baby. It was everyday family life, but the emptiness in my chest grew. I longed for laughter and the innocent joy of children in my home.

"Trinity's calling me," Miles said, his voice muffled by distance.

"I'll talk to you later. Love you."

"Love you too, sissy."

I smiled faintly, "Later."

He hung up before I could say anything else. I glanced around the room, eyes narrowing at the boxes that seemed to taunt me with their mere existence. All of them were my own—mainly books, a few other odds and ends. The sadness that gripped me was relentless. I'd always had the most demanding job, the tightest schedule, and the deepest insecurities. Miles was angry, and I was desperate to be seen, so much so that I followed every command without question. Now, here I was, alone, surrounded by regret.

Dating felt like a cruel joke. My time in New York had alienated me more than anything else. That fog of invisibility from my childhood had returned with a vengeance. Coworkers would barely look at me for over a second; people on the street seemed oblivious to my presence and dates. They always ended badly. They weren't evil men but would forget my name within seconds. It felt like I wasn't real, like I existed on some other plane.

The only person who seemed to remember I existed anymore was my brother and his family. Dad's Alzheimer's had robbed him of any memory of us before he passed. Mom, too incoherent at Hospice, never stayed awake long enough to acknowledge my presence. Sometimes, it felt like Miles would momentarily forget me, only for my name to pop into his mind at predictable intervals—like clockwork, only calling on specific days and times, usually if he was planning a trip. It upset me more than I could recall, but now I wondered why.

"This place won't unpack itself," I muttered aloud.

I'd talked to myself so much it felt almost normal. I knew I needed to make friends, that without connections, I'd end up as lonely as my father, but the idea seemed futile. No one saw me clearly. No one ever had. When I searched my memories for anyone who had seen me, I came up empty. No one had ever really seen me. No one ever would. Instinctively, I knew this despite the facade of normalcy I tried to maintain. I had a job, a family, a house. I wasn't haunted. Or… maybe I was just being childish. I was simply forgettable, unremarkable. This I knew.

"I exist," I whispered, the words reverberating loudly in the stillness of my apartment.

The silence that pervaded my life mocked me with its omnipresence.

"How the hell do you get lost in a bar?"

"It's a lounge, sha," came a voice behind me.

What a peculiar dream. I took a bite of my sandwich, returning to the rude awakening that morning. I rarely remembered my dreams, if I had them at all. But last night had been different. I'd found myself in a dimly lit room with a man I couldn't recall clearly, dressed in white and speaking with an accent I couldn't place. I woke up before anything significant happened. The dream had been woefully uneventful.

The floor was almost eerily quiet tonight. Aside from the constant beeps and monitors scattered around and George Gilmore in room 11 watching football, no one spoke. The nurses here seemed less lively than I was accustomed to, their faces vacant, their words few. I kept to my small office most of the night, avoiding their station.

We'd had one death so far—a patient with a DNR who suffered a stroke shortly after midnight. Another woman had been pronounced brain-dead an hour ago. We'd wait until tomorrow to pull the plug, so her daughter could say goodbye. I didn't count her in my tally. The night crew had a way of seeing me even less than the others, and I didn't like them much.

"Hello, Doctor."

I jumped, startled. At least he had the decency to look sheepish. My irritation took me by surprise. I wasn't typically agitated; my feelings were either muted or overwhelming. He pushed his hair back, revealing messy chocolate brown locks, and held a clipboard stained with dubious marks.

"Sorry," he mumbled, shifting awkwardly under my gaze. I was already weary of his presence. "I was told you were new and thought I should introduce myself before leaving for the night. I'm Damon Glass, one of the anesthesiologists."

"Y/N Y/L/N," I replied, my voice flat and uninviting. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he smiled, showing a gap between his front teeth that reminded me of my father's. It was a rare sight among people my age. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to come to me. Dr. Whitlock is on the floor, and I believe Morgan Fletcher is on call."

I nodded, appreciating the information but ready for him to leave. My distaste had faded, but I preferred brevity in conversations, especially with outsiders. I disliked the feeling of interacting with them. It was why I preferred dealing with the nearly dead; they rarely spoke, and when they did, I knew they'd be too medicated to remember much. The families were more accessible to handle than the ones back in Florida.

It was odd how my thoughts could veer into such morbid territories. Almost as morbid as my enjoyment of overseeing dying patients. It was not as macabre as my unbidden glee at my mother's death alongside my brother, but it ranked high on my list of flaws.

"Have a good night," I said, returning to my computer to refresh my emails.

Dr. Glass seemed to take the hint, leaving with an awkward smile and wave.

August 1997

I stood outside the door, the muffled sounds of grief seeping through the walls like a relentless, jagged current. The family's sorrow was palpable, a heavy fog that followed me down the hallway. I hoped to catch them in a better moment, but the cruel truth of this place was that better moments were rare. With a resigned breath, I raised my hand and knocked. The room fell silent, and a strained voice called out, allowing me to enter.

Elizabeth Fraiser had lived a life filled with grace and elegance. Once a dancer whose feet had carried her across Europe's stages, she met her husband in Paris and married him there. They had settled in New York, where her days of ballet had given way to a quieter role as a ballet instructor in Jersey. She had raised a family, and her pride in her children was as evident as her passion for dance. She spoke of them with a joy that contrasted sharply with the emptiness of my own mother's words.

Now, Elizabeth was in the late stages of lung cancer. Her family had clung to the hope of letting her pass away at home, but the relentless pneumonia and ceaseless pain had pushed them to make the difficult decision to admit her here. Her condition had worsened sharply today, and her family was struggling to cope with the harsh reality.

"Good afternoon," I said softly, a gentle murmur in the oppressive silence.

"Nice to see you," Elizabeth's oldest son, Elijah, managed a weak smile. We both knew he wasn't fond of doctors, but he tolerated me because I didn't overstay my welcome. "Mom's been sleeping for a while."

I stifled a sigh. Her body was crumbling, and delivering bad news was never easy. The small comfort was knowing she would soon feel nothing at all. We planned to increase her morphine dosage and withdraw all other medications. Her family would need to agree, but I wasn't too concerned. Mary, her daughter, had debated extending her mother's life with her brothers.

"We're really at the end, aren't we?" Mary's voice was strained, her husband's arm around her for support. Among them, she was the calmest, but the edges of her composure were frayed. Her eyes were red, testimony to her unrelenting tears. "Will she be in pain?"

I explained our focus on alleviating her suffering. She would be less coherent in the coming days but occasionally rouse enough to interact with them between doses. We aimed to ensure she had the utmost comfort and relief in her final days. The youngest Percy took the news hardest and had to excuse himself. I held Mary's hand, appreciating the warmth of human connection. I prided myself on my bedside manner.

"I know home care wasn't ideal for you," I broached delicately, aware of their crowded lives and young children. "But I'm offering it as an option. Respite care is also available, though I understand it was stressful before. It's worth discussing."

Elijah shook his head firmly. Mary hesitated, but her husband's reminder to care for herself and their baby swayed her. Percy's wife raised concerns about her own health, cementing the decision. Elizabeth would remain with us in her final days. It was probably for the best—she was too frail and in too much agony without constant medication.

"Let me know if you need anything," I said, glancing at the family. The nurses are always available, and I'm on call until six. Is there anything I can get you before I leave?"

"Mom needs a bath," Percy reentered the room. A nurse had come by earlier, asking if we were ready to step out. Let them know they could come in."

The rest of my shift dragged on. Other families were terse and uncommunicative, and their responses were minimal. I understood their grief, but it did little to ease my weary spirit. The nurses seemed as disinterested in me as ever. I had long since given up trying to connect with them.

The air outside was crisp, almost biting. I walked to the subway, the city traffic too maddening to endure. I'd trade bumper-to-bumper frustration for the quirks of the subway any day. Last week, a man in a bunny costume rapped at six in the morning. The week before, a man argued with his reflection in the window. Last night, an elderly woman beside me commented on my disheveled appearance, lamenting that men didn't like that and worrying I'd die alone. I barely remember if I responded. I hated talking on the subway; her parting insult had stung me.

Tonight promised to be different. I left the hospital later than usual, after two code blues and an injury report for a nurse. Overdue paperwork and an insurance squabble later, it was past eight when I left. My walk was short, and the wait at the terminal was OK, but the train didn't arrive until 9:30. When I finally boarded, the car was almost empty.

Then a group of men entered. They were rowdy, pushing each other, their drunkenness a stifling cloud. I almost moved when they sat too close, but I didn't want to draw attention. I could feel their eyes on me. I clutched my bag tightly, fingers brushing the can of pepper spray hooked to its strap. I was almost home. Just three more stops.

"Hey," one of the men called out. I ignored him. "Hey, you."

I hated the subway.

"Leave her alone."

That voice caught my attention. I knew it—or thought I did. When I looked up, I was met with a stranger, yet his presence felt oddly familiar. He was striking, with tanned skin and sharp features that made his brown eyes stand out under the harsh fluorescent lights. He took the seat beside mine, and I didn't stop him. The men were back to their raucous laughter, and I was forgotten. I relaxed slightly, hoping to remain unnoticed.

"Sorry about them," he said, his warm and soothing voice a gentle tenor that evoked a sense of nostalgia. "Are you OK?"

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze. Something about him tugged at the edges of my memory, yet he wasn't a celebrity, and I was sure I'd never met him before. Perhaps we'd crossed paths on the subway? My brain was playing tricks on me.

"Yes," I said softly. "Thank you."

Despite myself, I stole glances at him. I had to remind myself to breathe when I ventured past his neck. He was slender, but there was a subtle strength beneath his clothes. If he noticed my scrutiny, he said nothing. He returned to his book, but I was convinced that his eyes were still on me when I finally looked away.

I jolted awake, my body wracked with shivers despite the suffocating warmth of the blanket. The room was deathly silent, save for the moonlight streaming through the window like a spotlight on a stage set for a performance I never auditioned for. I rolled over, trying to bury myself deeper into the cocoon of my blanket, but then I heard it—a voice, soft and faint, yet carrying an unsettling authority.

“Oh, Y/N,” the voice crooned, dripping with a sinister allure. “It’s time. Come to me.”

Confusion and dread clawed at my insides as I stumbled out of bed. The room was a far cry from my own—stone walls, thick and oppressive, casting shadows that seemed to dance with malevolent glee. The floor beneath my feet was icy, a stark contrast to the comfort of my bed. My nightgown, white and delicate, felt like a mockery in this alien environment.

This wasn’t my room.

The voice came again, seductive and commanding. “Y/N, come out, come out, now. I’m waiting for you.”

Compelled, I moved to the window. Below, in the moonlit expanse of the lawn, stood the man from the subway. His face was eerily illuminated, his head tilted back as if inviting me to join him in the darkness below. His eyes—glowing a brilliant gold—seemed to reach out to me, promising unspeakable things if only I would take the leap.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He raised a hand, crooking a finger in a silent invitation. It was as if an invisible thread was pulling me toward him. Entranced, my feet moved on their own accord. Barefoot, the cold stone beneath me was a cruel contrast to the warmth I’d just left behind. I wandered through hallways and passages that felt simultaneously foreign and intimately known, descending into the shadows where he waited.

As I emerged onto the lawn, his smile made me shiver. He approached, his fingers brushing the side of my face—teasing, tantalizing, yet never quite touching.

“I’ve waited for you for so long,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. “So very long. And now, now you’re mine.”

A fragment of my mind screamed in protest, shouting that I didn’t belong to him, that I didn’t even know who he was or why I was here. But a deeper, more primal force tugged at me, pulling me closer until I was nearly touching him. His presence was unsettlingly soothing, and I took a breath, feeling the heat of his gaze.

“That’s right, my lamb, come closer,” he coaxed.

An overwhelming longing surged through me—irrational, illogical, yet so profound that I couldn’t resist. I needed him to touch me, to make the connection complete. I tilted my head to the side, exposing my neck to the moonlight.

He responded immediately, his fingers trailing along my throat, their cool touch sending shivers through me. I gasped, my body lighting up with each delicate brush.

“More,” I heard myself plead, pressing closer.

“Say it,” he demanded, his arms enveloping me in a possessive embrace. “Who do you belong to?”

“You. I’m yours.”

He cradled my head in his hand, leaning in. His lips were smooth against my skin, but his teeth were sharp as they pierced through flesh. I screamed as he drank deeply.

I awoke with a start, sitting up in bed, my hands clutching at my throat, searching for any sign of injury. The skin was intact, unbroken. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm my racing heart that felt as though it might burst from my chest.

The lamp flickered on with a click, casting a harsh, unwelcome light that made me squint and shield my eyes. Grabbing my robe and a cup, I shuffled out of the room, the chill of the hallway hitting me like a slap. I closed the door quietly behind me, trying not to disturb the oppressive silence that hung heavy in the air. The bathroom, bathed in the sickly fluorescent glow, was as deserted as I’d hoped.

I filled my cup halfway with water from one of the sinks, then leaned against the cold, sterile tiles, watching my reflection in the mirror as I took slow, deliberate sips. The dream—the one that had shaken me awake—felt so unnervingly real.

I traced the line of my neck with trembling fingers, the blue vein just beneath the surface. What kind of twisted message was my mind trying to send me with that nightmare? It had been a full-on gothic horror—a relic of some crumbling English manor, not the kind of place I ever imagined myself visiting, unless I was buried in a pile of classic literature.

And him. The monster. Even now, as I closed my eyes, I could still see his face—a blend of dark allure and cruel beauty. His eyes, oh, those eyes. They’d held me in thrall, made me willing to surrender to any demand he made. I could almost feel his cold touch, see his smile that promised both ecstasy and agony.

Wasn’t the whole vampire-mother-stuff supposed to be a metaphor for sex? Maybe that’s what my subconscious was trying to shove in my face—sex, or the glaring void where it should have been in my life.

I studied my flushed reflection, feeling the heat in my cheeks. I shook my head, trying to shake off the nightmare’s grip.

The man sat next to me again. It had been a week since I last saw him, and my body still reacted to his presence. Today, I admired his chiseled jawline and elongated face. He was an exquisite oval with a strong profile. This time, he caught me looking and smiled shyly.

"I'm Hoseok."

The name sent a shiver, stirring something familiar and unsettling. I quickly brushed off the uneasy feeling. It was probably my own insecurity.

"Y/N," I replied, unable to tear my gaze away from him.

He resumed reading, and I focused on crocheting a stuffed rabbit for my nephew. Miles had called that morning to update me on Trinity's appointment. The toy wasn't perfect—far from it—but I wanted to give it a try.

"How would you feel about dinner?" Hoseok's voice broke through my thoughts.

I paused my knitting. "I enjoy dinner. Who doesn't?"

He chuckled, a rich, velvety sound that made me blush. "Cheeky."

I bit my lip, unsure if it was a compliment. I felt a pang of embarrassment, struggling to maintain my composure. The first date I'd been asked on since undergrad, and I was fumbling. Miles would have a field day.

"Would you like dinner with me?"

I hesitated. "Yes."

Hoseok's laughter resonated deeply within me, and I felt a jolt of warmth as he slid closer, his knee brushing against mine. He was impossibly warm. Instinctively, I shifted away, uncomfortable with his proximity. There was something off about him, an unsettling vibe that I couldn't quite place.

But then he smiled, and that soft, disarming grin evaporated all my doubts. He was dazzling. My eyes fluttered shut as his cologne enveloped me, weakening my knees. I had to remind myself to breathe. He was captivating.

"Do you like Italian?" he asked, his voice deeper now.

I nodded, struggling to steady my breath. Panic and embarrassment churned within me, but I couldn't ignore the physical response. My mind was flooded with inappropriate thoughts of Hoseok, vivid and intrusive. I gasped, feeling a flush of heat I hadn't experienced in a long time.

"Does two weeks work?"

Snapping out of my daze, I looked at Hoseok and nodded.

"I'm off on the 27th."

He smiled, and I stared at his teeth longer than necessary. They seemed different—sharper, perhaps, with redder gums. I blinked, reassured that they were just as I remembered. My sleep deprivation must be getting to me.

"Meet you here?"

We agreed to meet at six. I'd catch the 5:30 train to ensure I arrived before him. As the subway pulled into my stop, I waved goodbye and stepped out, only to realize I hadn't asked him where we were going. The thought lingered until the following day.

The voice is louder now, sharper, as if it’s cutting through the fog of my half-sleep. “Y/N? I’m waiting for you. Come to me now.”

I hear it, feel the tug of it dragging me towards him, but fear clamps down on me like a vice. My bare feet are numb on the cold, wet grass as I stumble through the twisting maze of hedges, trying to escape the invisible force that pulls me like iron to a magnet.

My breath hitches, coming fast and uneven, as I sprint around corners, the long white gown tangling around my legs and tripping me up. I’m not sure anymore if I’m searching for a way out or if I’m trying to find him.

I turn another corner, my ankle twists and pain shoots through my leg as I crash into an open space—a small, white fountain sits in the middle, surrounded by benches.

Through the flickering light of the moon dancing on the water, I see him. Not a figment of my imagination, but there he is, standing as he promised, waiting.

Hoseok walks towards me with a slow, deliberate grace. He bends, lifting me effortlessly from the mess of my tangled gown and into his arms. I feel a peculiar sense of completeness as he sits on a bench, cradling me like a precious artifact.

“Were you bringing me your gift? Or were you trying to run from me?” His voice is soft, almost tender, and yet it cuts through me. I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes. I’m lost, adrift in confusion.

I’m mesmerized by his flawless beauty. My fingers move of their own accord, reaching towards his face. That smile returns, and I see the satisfaction in his eyes.

“You may touch me.” His lips part slightly, and I press my fingers against them. His tongue flicks out, wrapping around my fingertip and drawing it into his mouth. Before I can react, I feel a sharp bite.

I gasp as he licks the blood that wells up from the small wound. “A small treat,” he murmurs. “That’s why you came, isn’t it?”

I find myself nodding, helpless under his gaze.

He licks my finger one last time, savoring the taste before swallowing. “They told me you’d be extraordinary, worth every moment of waiting. Yet, your taste is beyond anything I ever dreamed.”

My body reacts to his words and his touch—still innocent but making my skin feel like it’s stretched too tight, like I might explode. I let my head fall back, exposing my neck to him as his tongue traces a path up the sensitive skin.

And then he bites.

I bolt awake, heart pounding as if it might burst from my chest. I fumble in the dark, reaching for the light switch, feeling profoundly alone with Rose away for the weekend.

I throw off the covers and stagger to the mirror, desperately checking my neck. There’s nothing there, no sign of the bite.

A cold shiver runs down my spine. I grab a blanket and a book, and huddle in the hall lounge, surrounded by the harsh light of every lamp and the incessant flicker of the television, trying to drive away the lingering shadows of the nightmare.

September 1997

I eased into my seat, the familiar weight of my bag pressed to my left side and draped an arm over it as if to claim it for my own. It was the first night off from the relentless grind of being on-call since mid-August and the first real night out in years. I’d never been much for the party scene, and medical school had only sharpened that aversion. The last time I went out for drinks was nearly six years ago, a fleeting memory of bar hopping that I’d abandoned early, too exhausted to keep pace with my friends.

Tonight, however, felt different. There was a nagging sense that I was misremembering that long-ago night, like a foggy half-remembered dream where something vital was missing. My life in New York had become a blur of medical texts and sleepless shifts, the grueling 24-hour days erasing the finer details of my existence. My final year had been a carousel of discomfort, but the specifics eluded me, lost in exhaustion. Perhaps a creep of some sort, some misguided doctor with a name I couldn’t quite grasp—maybe that’s what had soured my memory.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to find Hoseok’s contact. The old SeaTAC was still a relic of the past, but I clung to it out of stubborn habit. Despite its age, it was a lifeline to the outside world, a way to escape the pager’s relentless beeping. I longed for the day when I could toss the landline, but the cost of cell phone minutes constantly reminded me of its importance. With his endless chatter, Miles made sure I burned through those minutes with alarming frequency.

“Hello?” Hoseok’s voice was silky, a comforting balm after a long stretch of clinical detachment.

“Hey,” I breathed, trying to keep my voice steady. “Just got on.”

“See you soon,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring. I could almost picture the smile on his face, and it made me smile in return. His words seemed more benign over the phone, starkly contrasting the intensity of our recent encounters. “Save my spot.”

The car was beginning to fill up, Friday night revelers claiming their space, making it nearly impossible to save a seat. I promised I’d try, even as I felt the crushing inevitability of the crowd. His chuckle was soft, almost intimate.

“Thank you, sweet girl.”

I bit my lip, the endearment both flattering and unsettling. A tiny voice in my head cautioned me, even though Hoseok had never used his terms of affection demeaningly. The voice grew louder when he wasn’t around, whispering warnings I couldn’t entirely dismiss. It was strange, this constant inner debate.

“I’m going to hang up,” Hoseok said, his voice a sensual murmur. I moved the phone away from my ear, puzzled by the seductive undertone. Was he implying something more?

Was I expecting more from tonight?

“I’m running up my minutes,” he laughed, breaking the spell of my thoughts.

“Oh,” I blinked, snapping out of my reverie. “Sorry. See you in a bit.”

The recurring dreams of him were becoming a distraction. My nights were plagued with vivid, unsettling fantasies, leaving me restless and frazzled. I wiggled in my seat, pressing my thighs together to quell the unsettling arousal. Reality would surely disappoint, no matter how compelling he seemed in my dreams. I resolved to hold off on sex for now. I didn’t want to tarnish his allure with premature intimacy.

“Why did you want to be a doctor?” Hoseok asked, his fingers entwining with mine.

The wine started hitting, and the night air was crisp against my skin. Hoseok was the perfect gentleman; the evening was a beautiful respite from my routine. I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body, and sighed.

“I wish I could say it was for noble reasons,” I said, my voice tinged with melancholy. “In truth, I just wanted my family to notice me. I thought graduating medical school would make them see me, but it never quite worked out that way.”

Hoseok hummed thoughtfully beside me. I turned my gaze away, feeling a strange mix of comfort and sadness.

“None of us are perfect,” he said after a pause, his voice low and contemplative. “I’ve made my share of mistakes, and my choices haven’t always been noble.”

I leaned closer, savoring his warmth and intoxicating scent. Despite my fatigue, the night felt lighter, almost magical. He was mesmerizing, and I was drawn to him in a way I hadn’t expected.

“I have a hard time believing that,” I said with a soft grin, snuggling closer.

“Well,” he said, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me into his side. “You haven’t had me all to yourself yet.”

A shiver ran down my spine, a curious blend of fear and delight. The night had been a rollercoaster of emotions—enchantment and apprehension intertwined. Hoseok’s smile was disarming, melting away my unease, but I made a mental note to reflect on my feelings once I was alone. He seemed almost too perfect, and that nagging pit in my stomach grew again before vanishing.

“I don’t want the night to end,” Hoseok whispered, his breath warm against my ear as we waited for the train. “I’m having such a good time.”

I smiled, “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

“When can I see you again?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine longing.

“Soon,” I promised. “I’m getting the next few weekends off now that the other fellowship student is starting. My supervisor is trying to get me off every Saturday.”

“It’s a good thing my boss is flexible,” Hoseok purred, causing my heart to race. “Otherwise, I’d never get to spend time with you.”

I wanted to be annoyed by his clinginess, to remind him I wasn’t his girlfriend, but instead, I found myself grinning. His words made me feel seen and appreciated. Despite the anxiety he sometimes stirred in me, I was eager to be close to him. He looked at me so intently that I was willing to overlook my reservations. Maybe it was just butterflies?

“Where do you work?” I asked, trying to divert my thoughts.

Hoseok was a bartender at a speakeasy in Manhattan, where he’d worked since it opened. He had hinted at it throughout the evening, teasing me with its obscurity.

“It’s a smaller place,” he said amusedly. “You’ve probably never heard of it.”

“Try me,” I challenged, my heart pounding strangely.

“Dauphine.”

The name hit me like a jolt. Images of dimly lit corridors and crimson hues flashed in my mind. I was sure I’d never been there, but the name stirred a disquieting sense of déjà vu. The dream from July, the man from my dreams—there was a connection, but it eluded me.

As we stood in the bustling, well-lit area, I edged away slightly, unsettled. Hoseok was a charming gentleman, but the name “Dauphine” had ignited an inexplicable dread. Despite his humor and warmth, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something—or maybe I was just afraid of what I might find.

I stole a furtive glance at him, and it felt as though I’d known him far longer than the scant time we’d spent together. His face was oddly familiar, like a recurring image in a dream half-remembered. I had met him before, somewhere.

“No, you haven’t,” his voice cut through the night like ice. It was cold, detached, far from the warmth he’d shown me all evening. A shiver snaked down my spine, and I forgot to breathe. His grip on me tightened as though sensing my legs would buckle beneath me. “You’ve never known me before.”

The fierce scowl on his face startled me. His eyes, glowing with an eerie golden light, seemed to burn through me. Everything about him felt otherworldly like he was something less than human. A fragmented memory of a man sitting alone at a bar surged up, only to dissolve into nothingness.

“I am Hoseok,” he whispered, his voice weaving a heavy spell over my senses. “I am your boyfriend. We’ve been together a long time, and we’re in love. You just tripped and hit your head.”

A sudden jolt of pain made me wince and try to pull away from him.

“Does it hurt?” His voice was deceptively tender, and I sighed through the pain.

“Yes,” I groaned, rubbing my forehead. “Does it look bad?”

Hoseok’s grin was unsettling, a blend of fake sympathy and amusement.

“You were lucky this time. Just a barely noticeable red mark.”

I chuckled at my own clumsiness. I wasn’t usually this awkward, but my heel caught on a pavement crack. I gingerly rubbed my ankle and was relieved to find it unscathed. Even my heel had survived.

“Jeez,” I said, looping my arm through his. “I completely forgot what we were talking about.”

Hoseok’s smile broadened, clearly enjoying my disoriented state. I rolled my eyes and reached over to gently tap his chest. He responded by sticking out his tongue, which only made me scoff at his childishness.

“We were talking about work,” I said.

I nodded as if on autopilot. “How’s the bar?”

Hoseok worked at a swanky speakeasy in Manhattan, though I was trying to remember its name. Despite being together for what felt like ages, I had never been there. I was never one for bars, while Hoseok reveled in the place’s gothic charm. The name eluded me again as I tried to recall it.

“Tae’s excited,” he chuckled. “With Halloween around the corner, business will pick up.”

I hummed, my thoughts still lingering on the name. I had thought his boss was Tristan, but I must have misremembered. I shrugged off the nagging thought.

“You should stop by the bar,” I heard myself say, sounding oddly mechanical.

“Sounds fun,” he replied, his tone laced with a predatory edge.

Looking back on that night, it’s almost laughable how easily he swayed me. The way he possessed me was undeniable; soon, he would own every inch of me. Those dreams of him were his twisted way of showing love—how much he craved to touch me, to keep me bound to him. It’s sick and vile, and the thought of what we’d become makes me nauseous, yet to him, it’s love.

“Let’s get you home,” he said, his arm wrapping possessively around my shoulders.

I remember leaning into his side, kissing his cheek as if I was floating. His presence was intoxicating. Even now, I can feel the ghost of his touch and his body's heat. It’s a twisted sort of longing I have for him. This place is cold and dark without him, without his reminders of how much he cares and wants me to scream for him. Here, time stands still, and life continues in a strange loop. I can’t say whether I’m alive or dead, but I know it no longer matters. Once I entered this world, my life ended and began anew. Hoseok made me feel both alive and dead simultaneously.

And as I write this, my heart aches for him. My fingers tremble at the thought of him returning to claim me again. The pain he inflicts makes my heart pound and my stomach clench. I miss him.

It both sickens and excites me.

October 19, 1997

My bones groaned and cracked like ancient floorboards beneath my weight as I fought to catch my breath. Sweat slicked my skin, and I began patting myself down, half-expecting to find something tangible to anchor me to reality. My surroundings slowly came into focus. The harsh fluorescent lights above stung my eyes, but their sterile brightness offered an odd comfort. I was at home, cocooned in thick blankets that had twisted themselves around my legs. The bed beneath me creaked with the effort of supporting my restless form. I sighed, flopping back down, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that still clung to me like a shadow.

The dreams had become relentless, evolving from vague echoes of past terrors into something far more insidious. These weren't fueled by mere fear but by an overwhelming, consuming desire that felt dangerously close to swallowing me whole. The weekends were the worst, and after seeing Hoseok, they had turned almost infernal. He was always there in my dreams, his skin smooth and flawless, his deep brown eyes burning into mine with an intensity that left me gasping for air.

Every time I closed my eyes, his image flickered behind my eyelids like a dark, seductive film. The scenes always ended the same way: I would climax, my body convulsing in a fevered rhythm, while I looked up to see his face contorted in ecstasy. His deep, guttural groans would reverberate through me as his grip tightened on my skin. He would finish inside me, and my spent body would collapse beneath him. He would drape himself over me, showering my chest with tender, lingering kisses. The setting varied—my bed, a chilling, unfamiliar void, or a dimly lit lounge—but the conclusion was always the same.

With a sigh, I fumbled for my phone, my fingers brushing the cool surface. An email from Hoseok awaited me, and a smile crept across my face despite the haze of exhaustion. He was the epitome of a perfect gentleman—never pushing beyond my boundaries, never demanding more than I was willing to give, always accommodating his schedule to mine. Even in matters of intimacy, something many men would aggressively pursue, he always respected my pace. In the hectic blur of the past month, we hadn’t had a moment alone. He hadn’t even broached the topic. As I thought about it, I couldn't recall the last time we'd been intimate outside of these dreams.

From: Hoseok Jung Subject: All Hallows Eve Date: October 19, 1997: 03:05 To: Y/N Y/L/N Good morning, love, I'm sorry for the early message, especially since this is one of your rare mornings off. I hope I didn't wake you. I'm heading home from work and couldn't stop thinking about you. Taehyung is throwing a simple Halloween party this year, and luckily, it falls on a Friday. Would you like to join me? I think it could be a lot of fun. I love you. Hobi

I grinned and began typing my reply.

From: Y/N Y/L/N Subject: RE: All Hallows Eve Date: October 19, 1997: 04:15 To: Hoseok Jung Hobi, Don't worry, you didn't wake me. I was tangled up in strange dreams and was deep asleep when your email arrived. Sadly, I doubt I'll fall back asleep anytime soon, so I plan on catching up on Buffy or Beyond Belief—whichever's on. Hopefully, I won't get stuck with reruns of Seinfeld, not really my thing. Lucky for me, I'm working mornings this week. I'd love to come to your party. Call me when you wake up. Love you, too. Y/N Y/L/N, M.D. Palliative Care Physician, New York-Presbyterian Hospital

It barely registered that, to my knowledge, I had never said "I love you" to him before. I had never really pondered the oddity of our relationship. My memories of our time together were a disorienting blur, but I never questioned it. It wasn't entirely my fault—he had ensnared me, body and soul, and any unresolved threads might make it harder for him to maintain control. Regardless of our tangled history or how elusive it seemed; I was simply glad he wanted to see me at that moment.

I lay huddled in my bed, my body a coiled spring of anticipation, each nerve ending tingling with the foreboding that had stalked me all day. His voice had been a persistent whisper, a sultry hum that turned my name into a haunting lullaby. It was a melody wrapped in an insatiable longing, a caress of words that promised more than I dared to imagine.

Tonight, I wanted to resist. I tried to muster the strength to ignore the insidious pull, that relentless tug drawing me toward him like a moth to a flame. The very idea of defying him churned my stomach with a nauseous dread. But the threads of his influence were woven so tightly around me, it felt like trying to escape from silken chains.

Then it came, cutting through the murkiness of my thoughts like a scythe. His voice, now sharper, more insistent, shattered the fragile veneer of my resistance.

“Y/N. Come to me now.”

With a sudden jolt, the pretense of defiance evaporated. I threw off the blankets as if they were chains, leaping out of bed and flying through the darkened hallway. My feet barely touched the ground as I hurtled down the stairs, each step propelled by an unrelenting force, dragging me inexorably toward him.

He waited for me in the foyer, bathed in an eerie glow that made him look like an apparition from a fevered dream—or perhaps a nightmare. His smile was both welcoming and chilling, a promise wrapped in malice. When he took my hand, his lips brushed against my fingers with a cool, electric touch that set my entire body aflame.

The intensity of my reaction embarrassed me, but he tilted my face up to meet his gaze, shaking his head with a look of almost pity.

“Your blood knows what it wants, my lamb. You must let your mind follow.”

My face burned with fierce heat, but the compulsion pulling me to him was too overpowering to resist. He guided me through the meticulously manicured gardens to a secluded alcove framed by dense, sculpted hedges. He seated himself on a bench, drawing me onto his lap with a practiced grace that made me feel both cherished and helpless. His eyes, dark and unfathomable, never left mine, promising secrets I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“Are you ready, my lamb?”

Without a second thought, I bared my neck to him. The desperate craving for the bliss and torment of his bite had consumed me completely; waiting was no longer an option.

He lingered, his tongue tracing a tantalizing path along the delicate skin of my throat. The sensation was almost unbearable, and I found myself begging with a voice that sounded alien, strained.

“Please.”

And then he bit.

I shot awake, my heart a frantic drum in my chest. I had fallen asleep hunched over my desk at the hospital, my neck stiff from the awkward angle. Rubbing away the ache, I cursed the book that had plagued me with such vivid nightmares. I needed to talk to my brother again; this couldn’t be anything but a cruel trick of the mind.

The glowing digits on my alarm clock mocked me with their late hour. I stood up, stretching and feeling my heartbeat slowly return to normal. I changed into a t-shirt and shuffled toward the bed, determined to banish the lingering unease.

As I passed the window, something froze me in place. I looked down into the parking lot and saw him standing under a flickering lamppost, his gaze locked onto mine with a predatory intensity that made my blood run cold.

It was Hoseok—or at least, it looked like him. But the resemblance was grotesquely twisted. His eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, a sickly luminescence that cut through the night like a malevolent beacon. His skin was peeling away in ragged strips, as if he were shedding himself like a decaying husk. This was no longer my Hoseok. He was a creature of nightmares, a monster forged from my darkest fears.

My fingers clung to the windowsill as I stared, my body paralyzed by the overwhelming urge to run to him, to give in to the magnetic pull of his presence. I watched as his lips moved, shaping a single word that seemed to echo through the chill of the night.

“Soon.”

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the vision to vanish. When I opened them again, the parking lot was empty, the lamppost casting its pallid light over a sea of unmoving cars. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, snatched my blanket and pillow, and stumbled back to the on-call room, desperate to escape the sinister call that still haunted the dark corners of my mind.

October 28, 1997

"What should I do?" the nurse asked, her name slipping from my mind like a shadow lost in the night.

"Give them some space," I replied, my gaze fixed resolutely away from the room across the hall. Elizabeth had just passed away, her DNR a cold, ironclad barrier that left no room for last-ditch efforts. Her family needed their final moments with her while we waited for the body to be transported. Mary was still wailing into her husband's chest, and Elijah looked like he'd been dragged through a storm, barely able to stand. Percy stood like a marble statue, his eyes glazed over while his wife clung to him. The sight of Percy’s frozen, unseeing expression twisted my gut in a way I couldn’t ignore. It reminded me too much of what I feared—and I needed to escape the suffocating atmosphere of grief.

"Should we get them out of the room?" another nurse asked, her thick southern drawl hinting at Memphis. "Seeing her like that can’t be good for their mental well-being."

I shook my head. "Let them have their last moments in peace. Offer condolences and check on them regularly."

I fiddled nervously with my ID card, the familiar unease gnawing at me. My wounds from the day seemed too fresh. Miles surfaced in my thoughts again, and I resolved to call my brother on my way home tonight. Hoseok wasn’t working tonight, so he wouldn’t join me on the subway.

"I'm going to check in with 211," I murmured, watching Percy leave the room, clutching his phone like a lifeline. "I’ll be back in 5-10 minutes to see if the family needs anything. Just make them as comfortable as you can."

"You got it, doc."

The subway ride home was a silent affair. My headache throbbed like a relentless drum, and my stomach churned uneasily. The day had been heavy with more deaths than usual. Elizabeth’s family had eventually calmed down, but their kindness on their way out hadn’t eased the knot in my chest. I knew their pain intimately.

I called my brother as I made my way to the subway. Despite his complicated feelings about our mother, he was always supportive. The conversation ended abruptly when Aurora entered the room, demanding his attention. Miles had never truly understood my emotions; I doubted he ever tried.

The short walk home from the subway was a blessing, though the cold night air bit at my skin. I was grateful for the proximity of my apartment, but the streets were alive with noise—tourists laughing, gang members shouting outside their apartment complexes. I was relieved to escape the chaos, though my street wasn’t entirely free of foot traffic. My old apartment in East Harlem had been more of a hustle, with late-night carpooling with a coworker whose name eluded me. I knew it started with an 'A,' but the memory only worsened my headache. I set the thought aside for another time.

After selling the family home in Florida and vacation properties scattered across the country, I’d managed to buy a house on Astro Row at 100th and 30th Street. It was an old building—too expensive for its size, and initially, it seemed far from beautiful. But over time, it grew on me. I loved the brownstones, the front porches, the grand trees, and the quiet streets. I couldn’t imagine leaving. Even the renovations I’d planned were postponed. The charm of the old place had won me over, and I’d made peace with its quirks. I even got along with my neighbor, a small but welcome relief.

Tonight was quieter than usual, and none of my neighbors seemed awake. I missed the old man at the end of the street who used to sit on his porch, sipping coffee and waiting for dawn. It was nearly 4:30 AM. I shrugged and continued; my mind focused on the comfort of my bed.

Fumbling for my keys, I cursed quietly when my pockets were empty. My purse, a cavernous mess of clutter, swallowed everything. As I dug through it, a sudden burst of laughter behind me made me freeze. Two women strolled down the sidewalk, their laughter echoing off the walls. They were both stunning, their pale skin glowing under the moonlight. One of them locked eyes with me, her gaze piercing through the darkness. She looked at me as if she’d seen a ghost, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew me.

"Hello," she said, her voice as light and tinkling as a bell.

"Hi," I replied, feeling strangely off-balance.

The other woman seemed perplexed. Her beauty was almost ethereal, with blonde hair as pale as her skin and eyes as dark as night. Her gaze swept over me with an unmistakable disdain, her teeth bared in a slight sneer. Yet, despite her apparent coldness, she was undeniably beautiful.

"How are you?" the first woman asked, her voice soothing.

"Fine," I responded, my throat dry. "And you?"

The nagging headache intensified as I tried to make sense of the encounter, a sense of déjà vu wrapping around me like a tightening noose. The women moved on, their laughter fading into the night, leaving me with a lingering unease that clung to me like the shadows of my dreams.

She studied me, her face a shifting canvas of emotions before settling into a look of genuine confusion. I tried to place her but struggled. There was something crucial I needed to remember, something just out of reach, but my mind remained stubbornly blank. A frantic urge to call Hoseok seized me.

The realization hit me like a cold slap. Why did I think I needed him? I tried to convince myself I could handle this alone. But deep down, I knew I needed him here. He could make this headache vanish, soothe the gnawing anxiety that had taken root in my chest. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

“What's your name?” she asked, her smile both disarming and unsettling, making my thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm.

“Y/N,” I replied, feeling dazed and disconnected.

“Cold night, Y/N,” she purred, her gaze never wavering. “You should get inside.”

I nodded absently, my words failing me as I fumbled with my keys. The blonde woman's giggle, filled with an eerie excitement, made me shiver. I wanted to retreat, to escape this strange encounter. I shoved the key into the lock, eager to shut out the unsettling night.

“Y/N,” the first woman’s voice halted me, her tone chillingly smooth. Neither of them had moved since they stopped. The blonde’s smile remained fixed, and I couldn’t bring myself to meet the other woman’s eyes. “Be careful out here. You never know who’s wandering around.”

I nodded, turning the doorknob, but her voice stopped me again.

“I work at a bar in Midtown,” she said, her words snagging my attention like a hook. I had always known she worked at a bar, but why was it important? “It’s called Dauphine. Ever heard of it?”

Yes, I wanted to say. That place haunted my nightmares, a dark shadow that clung to the edges of my memory. But I couldn’t piece together why. Hoseok would know. He’d make everything better. No, my mind screamed—he’d only make it worse. I couldn’t say how I knew this, but I wanted to listen to the little voice inside me tonight. Something was very wrong.

“You should come by sometime,” she offered. “We’re on 1st and East 54th in the far corner of the Diamond District. If you need anything, just ask for ‘Bootsy.’”

Bootsy…

“Are you okay with cherry liquor?” she asked.

I let go of the doorknob and turned to face them fully. I couldn’t meet either of their eyes. The sensation was all too familiar. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the answer I didn’t want to hear.

“Do you know Hoseok? He’s my boyfriend.”

The blonde hissed sharply. Bootsy gasped, her face a mask of surprise and something darker, more shadowy. It was clear that Hoseok was connected to these people, tangled up with my memories of New York, the root of all my confusion. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

No, I shook my head. Was that what he wanted me to believe? I wasn’t sure anymore.

“Yes,” Bootsy finally replied. “I’ve known him for many, many years.”

Before I could second-guess myself, I slammed the door shut and locked it. The blonde finally moved, stepping away from Bootsy and muttering something I couldn’t catch. She disappeared down the street, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.

“What’s wrong with me?” I muttered through the door, my voice tinged with desperation.

Bootsy’s response came through with a sorrowful edge. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head, my headache pounding with such intensity that I could barely keep my eyes open. “It’s him, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice breaking. “I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s like I remember things but not really, and everything goes blank every time he’s around.”

Bootsy’s eyes, a deep crimson, darted around nervously. They seemed to glow faintly, like a cat’s eyes in the dark. Her dark hair framed her face perfectly, glossy and sleek. Bootsy wasn’t human. What she was, I couldn’t say. But she was somehow tied to the nightmares that plagued me, and Hoseok’s shadow loomed larger than ever.

“He’s a demon,” she whispered hurriedly, her words laced with a fear that seemed almost tangible. “I can’t tell you exactly what he’s done. I’ve never known him to keep someone around for this long, but whatever you’ve done to make him want you seems to have spared your life. You should have died back in ’92 with your friend.”

A friend? Someone else had been involved? Hoseok was a demon? The fragments Bootsy offered were like pieces of a shattered mirror, reflecting a reality I could barely grasp. I believed her, though. I had no reason not to. My memories felt like they were being twisted, distorted by Hoseok’s manipulations.

Then I thought of the creature outside of the hospital and felt my knees go numb. I hadn't hallucinated anything. It was real. It was him. Oh my God.

“We can’t talk for long,” she said, a look of pained urgency on her face. “He won’t sleep for much longer.”

“What can I do?” I begged, clutching my head as if I could squeeze out the pain. It was unbearable. “God, it hurts.”

“Nothing,” Bootsy’s voice trembled. “Hoseok wants you, and he’s never lost a game. It doesn’t matter where you go or what you do; he will win. Whatever you’ve been doing has kept you alive this long, but I don’t know how much time you have left.”

Her words hit me like a tidal wave, crashing over me and dragging me under. I had been a pawn in Hoseok’s twisted game, my life manipulated by his cruel whims. What did he want from me? My body? My soul? The realization was suffocating.

“Go to Dauphine and find Taehyung,” Bootsy instructed, her voice carrying a chilling finality despite its almost maternal tone. “He had a soft spot for you back then. If you’re lucky, he might be able to change you, make you like us. That might be enough to satisfy Hoseok.”

Taehyung. The name cut through the fog in my mind like a beacon, easing the throbbing in my head, if only for a moment. He had haunted my dreams, his image vivid: a white button-up shirt, his gentle hands, his voice firm yet tender, saying he didn’t want to share me. He had left me in that bar, but the details were fuzzy—how or why I had ended up there was a blur. All I knew was that I was lost, and he had once been my guide.

She paused, her eyes darkening with a weighty empathy. “You’d be luckier if Taehyung agrees to end your life before the demon does. I wouldn’t wish this half-life on anyone, nor would I be glad to see you die, but those are your choices. I can’t guarantee you’ll make it through this.”

“What happened in ’92?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper, thick with desperation.

Bootsy shook her head, her expression darkening with sorrow. “He killed your friend and tried to lure you away. That's all I know, and I don't have time to explain the rest. The sun’s about to rise, and your demon will be waiting for you to fall asleep. Don’t fight it. Let it happen. If he knows you’re aware of him, he might decide to kill you.”

It felt wrong to just let it happen. What would this mean for me in the end? Would knowing about his influence change anything? I couldn’t be sure, but if I wanted to buy myself time, I had no choice but to take the risk. I needed answers, a plan, anything to regain control.

“Y/N,” Bootsy’s urgent voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Your memories won't come back unless he wants them to. Let it go. Either way you'll be dead.”

With those final, haunting words, Bootsy vanished as quickly as she had appeared. The weight of my predicament pressed heavily on my shoulders, my impending doom looming like a dark cloud. I stumbled back to the porch, unlocked the front door, and sought refuge in the sanctuary of my bed. Bootsy’s grim mantra echoed in my mind as I tried to push aside my troubling thoughts about Hoseok, grappling with the uncertainty that lay ahead.

He appeared to me then, in a vision that was both intoxicating and horrifying. His eyes sparkled with a predatory thrill, his touch setting my skin ablaze, igniting waves of pleasure that crashed over me with ruthless intensity. His worship was ceaseless, his lips warm and insistent, as if trying to devour every shred of my resistance. I was swallowed by him, lost in a whirlwind of passion that twisted the love I once felt (at least, I believed I felt) into something darker, more insidious. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

Bootsy’s words had struck me like a death knell, sealing my fate in an irreversible descent. She had unwittingly set my downfall into motion, transforming innocent affection into a ravenous lust that consumed every corner of my mind. When I awoke late in the evening, the decision to call off work for the rest of the week came with a grim resignation. The struggle to stay awake was in vain; it was becoming starkly clear how deeply Hoseok’s control had embedded itself within me. The inevitable was no longer a distant threat—it had already begun to unfold, dragging me into its dark embrace.

October 31, 1997

I tugged nervously at my skirt, my fingers trembling despite the cool night air that should have been a relief. The address that had arrived this morning was burned into my mind, glaring at me from the top of the paper—Dauphine, the bar Bootsy had mentioned. My plans were clear: find Bootsy, get directions, speak with this Taehyung, and figure out my options. But the gnawing truth was unavoidable—no matter what I did, it felt like my life was already slipping through my fingers.

Sleep deprivation had become my relentless tormentor. My eyelids felt heavy, weighted down by leaden exhaustion, and my attempts to feign illness to dodge work had morphed into a grim reality. It was a battle to stay awake each day, and I feared that simply making it to this bar would be a Herculean task.

I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to adjust the wig perched precariously on my head. I’d opted for a lazy Halloween costume—a half-hearted Cher from *Clueless*. The yellow plaid blazer was a thrift store find, the skirt a serendipitous discovery. But the wig made me look more like a grotesque caricature than a character. Frustrated, I yanked it off and tossed it onto the floor. I’d have to go without it.

Yawning, I fought the overwhelming urge to collapse back into bed. My cab was on its way, and I had to be ready. I gathered my essentials—purse, house keys, phone, and a spare outfit—preparing for a night that could very well be my last. I steeled myself for the confrontation, even if it felt like a hopeless, losing battle.

My daily struggle with myself had turned into a monotonous grind. My feigned illness had kept Hoseok at a distance, but it had only given me more time to spiral into despair over his influence. My mind was a battleground, where fragments of my past life clashed with the twisted desires he’d implanted in me. Every morning, I awoke to a gnawing need, a desperate craving for him that left me feeling sullied and repulsed.

I stepped outside and drew a shaky breath of the crisp night air. Calling my brother was both a comfort and a torment. There was a chance this could be the last time I spoke to him, and the thought tightened my chest like a vise. I fought back tears as I dialed his number.

“Hello?” Miles answered, his voice warm and familiar.

“Hey,” I forced a cheerful tone, though it felt hollow. “Still out Trick-or-Treating?”

“We just got back,” he said. “Rory wants to talk to you.”

My heart ached at the sound of my niece’s voice. “Hi, Auntie,” she said, her voice sweet as ever. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby,” I sniffled, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah!” Aurora’s excitement was a bright spot in my darkness. “I was Katerina, mommy was Miss Elaina, and daddy was Daniel Tiger.”

“That sounds amazing,” I wiped away my tears. “What about your baby brother?”

Aurora’s voice took on a scolding tone. “His name is Corbin, Auntie,” she said as though I should have known better. “He’s still in mommy’s belly, so he wasn’t anything. Mommy’s giving him candy.”

I laughed, though it was tinged with sadness. “How’s your mommy?”

“She says ‘Hi,’” Aurora replied. “We got the best candy! A lady was giving out big Starbursts. Daddy’s letting me have all the pink ones because I’m special.”

“You are special, sweet girl.”

A painful thought intruded—would Hoseok make them forget me if I asked him? The idea was almost too agonizing to bear. He’d kept me alive for five years, a perverse form of flattery that I struggled to appreciate. My self-loathing deepened as I thought about the life I was about to leave behind.

“Daddy says I have to go,” Aurora pouted. “Bye, Auntie.”

“Bye, Rory girl,” I choked out, my voice cracking as the tears welled up. “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Aurora’s sweet voice drifted through the line, a beacon of innocence in my storm of dread.

I gasped, the floodgates opening as I fought to keep my composure. “Impossible,” I managed to whisper, my throat tight with sorrow.

“Why?” she giggled, her innocent curiosity slicing through my resolve.

“Because,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “I love you more than the world.”

Aurora’s laughter began to fade as she handed the phone back to Miles. The sound of her giggles and her mother’s laughter echoed in the background, a cruel reminder of the life I was about to lose. My heart clenched painfully at the thought of never hearing those sounds again.

“What’s up, sissy?” Miles asked, his tone tinged with concern.

“I was just heading out,” I said, forcing a tremulous cheerfulness into my voice. “Thought I’d call before my cab gets here. I’m leaving a little early.”

There was a heavy pause on the other end, a silence that spoke louder than words.

“Everything okay, Y/N? You sound upset.”

“No, no,” I hurried to reassure him, biting my lip to keep from sobbing. “Just tired. You know how it is.”

“You sure?” Miles pressed, his concern palpable. He was always too perceptive for his own good, but he never pushed too hard. I hoped he wouldn’t miss me too much.

“I’m positive, Bubba,” I said, my eyes darting to the cab pulling up to the curb. “My ride’s here. I love you.”

“Love you too, sis. Call me later?”

“I’ll try to remember in the morning,” I said, attempting to sound upbeat despite the crushing weight in my chest. “I know it’s late for you guys.”

I closed my phone with shaking hands and stuffed it into my purse, the weight of my decisions pressing down on me. The cab driver approached, his face a blur through my tears.

“Where to?” he asked, his voice a lifeline in the growing storm of my fear.

“1st and East 54th in the Diamond District,” I replied, offering a weak, strained smile.

“Dauphine?” The driver’s eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror, a hint of something unsettling in his gaze. “Ever been there before?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, trying to steady my breath. “I don’t remember it all that well. Guess I had too much fun last time.”

“Watch yourself,” the driver said, turning on the radio with a slow, deliberate movement. “That place is crawling with freaks.”

“Welcome to New York,” I muttered, more to myself than him.

He chuckled, his voice a touch too jovial. “Been here my whole life. My name’s Jimin. Call me if you need a getaway driver.”

The car rumbled with the low hum of R&B, Jimin fiddling with the radio as if trying to mask the creeping anxiety that gnawed at my insides. I mouthed the lyrics, trying to drown out the terror that threatened to consume me.

My thoughts were a twisted mess of fear and longing. The image of Hoseok, tainted by his manipulation, flickered through my mind. The desire to escape him was overpowered by the suffocating grip of my own confusion. Taehyung was my last, desperate hope—a fleeting chance at redemption. But deep down, a gnawing realization settled in I was already damned, teetering on the edge with no way back.

The mantra echoed relentlessly in my head: I miss him, love him, and need him…

I was spiraling, caught in a web of my own making, and the thought of facing what awaited me at Dauphine was almost too much to bear.

“We’re here,” Jimin's voice cut through the thick fog of dread that enveloped me.

“Thanks for the ride,” I muttered, my fingers trembling as I fumbled with the cash. I handed him a generous tip, a feeble attempt to cling to some semblance of normalcy.

The alleyway stretched before me, a grim path between the upscale buildings of the Diamond District. It looked less menacing than I’d imagined, but its familiarity offered no comfort. Dim street lamps cast weak pools of light that barely touched the encroaching darkness. I hoped—prayed—that Hoseok wasn’t already here. The fading daylight gave me just enough visibility to navigate, and the murmur of voices outside the bar was a small, shaky comfort. I clung to the hope that these voices belonged to ordinary people, potential witnesses if I needed to make a quick escape.

As I approached, the group of people outside fell silent. My stomach churned violently, and bile rose in my throat, threatening to spill. I couldn’t bring myself to turn and face them; their gaze was almost a physical presence, making my skin crawl even though I never looked directly at them. A low, sinister snicker from one of them sent a shiver down my spine, amplifying my fear. I hadn’t even seen their faces, yet their mere presence was enough to make me quake.

The bouncer at the gate eyed me with a scrutinizing glare.

“Password,” he demanded, his voice flat and unyielding.

“I-” I stammered, my mind racing to recall the password Hoseok had given me. “Audubon.”

The gate creaked open, and I slipped past the security guard, my heart pounding like a drum. Despite my nervous bravado, the bouncer’s indifference did little to soothe me. Once inside, I felt a fleeting sense of relief, escaping the unsettling stares.

I gripped my bag tightly, knuckles white, and started searching for the bar. The interior was starkly underwhelming—plush couches and private booths scattered haphazardly, with red neon signs pointing to the restrooms. The oppressive red and black color scheme was heavy, but thankfully devoid of any overtly horrific scenes. I had no desire for strobe lights or dance floors; the thought of walking into a trap was more than enough to keep me on edge.

Navigating through the dimly lit space, I felt like I was moving through a maze. The long hallway ahead seemed to stretch into an abyss, the darkness intensifying with each step. The oppressive gloom and the eerie silence made my nerves jangle. The jazz music that had been softly playing in the background had faded, leaving me in a disquieting void.

At the end of the hall, the emptiness was almost a relief. The silence was oppressive but meant I wasn’t walking into a room full of hostile eyes. Perhaps this was how I’d met Bootsy—wandering aimlessly until she had found me and guided me out.

The bar seemed to stretch on forever, an architectural labyrinth that added to my growing sense of dread. I held my breath as the walls seemed to close in, my anxiety a tangible weight pressing against my chest. The high ceilings and claustrophobic spaces combined to create a sensation of being trapped. My heels clicked sharply against the linoleum, the sound echoing eerily in the silence. The place felt more like a mausoleum than a bar. Every step heightened my unease, and the hairs on my neck stood on end as I glanced around, trying to ignore the creeping terror that threatened to overwhelm me.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice trembling as it cut through the oppressive silence. “Is anybody here?”

The sudden sound of a voice behind me made me jump, my heart racing as I spun around with a gasp that morphed into a shriek. My balance faltered, and I slammed into the wall, scraping my arm against the rough surface. The sharp sting of pain was immediate and searing. I clutched my injured arm, the pain and the shock making my vision blur. I turned to face the figure who had startled me.

He stood there, his white button-down shirt contrasting sharply with the dim surroundings. His tall, lean frame was framed by broad shoulders, and his long fingers seemed to move with an effortless grace. But it was his smile that made my blood run cold—a wide, boxy grin that stretched unnaturally across his face, his eyes glinting with a mischievous, unsettling light.

“My apologies,” he said, his voice dripping with a smooth, honeyed tone. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I glared at him, struggling to steady my breathing and regain my composure. “It’s fine. It didn’t kill me, did it?”

He chuckled softly; a sound that felt more sinister than soothing. “You’re bleeding,” he said, his gaze dropping to my arm.

I looked down and saw blood seeping through a tear in my blazer. The sight of my own blood was like a cruel reminder of my vulnerability. The pain, combined with the sight of my blood, pushed me to the edge. My hands shook as I raised them to my face, tears welling up uncontrollably. The enormity of my situation crashed down on me like a tidal wave. Everything felt chaotic; my life had been turned upside down, and the relentless pounding in my head was unbearable. I should have stayed home. At least Hoseok’s presence, while twisted, had been a semblance of comfort.

The despair was suffocating.

“Are you okay, sha?” His voice was soft, but his touch on my arm was disconcertingly gentle.

I laughed, a hollow, despairing sound. “Does it look like it?”

“No, you look upset,” he replied, his eyes glinting with an unsettling mixture of sympathy and amusement.

“You don’t say?” I snapped, rolling my eyes and jerking my arm away from his touch.

Despite my evident distress, he remained unnervingly calm, his smile lingering like a dark shadow. His pleasure at my discomfort was unsettling, and the aura around him felt eerily similar to the disquieting presence of those outside. His attractiveness was overshadowed by a deeply disturbing quality that made me want to flee. It was as if fear had paralyzed me, pinning me in place.

Suddenly, a chilling realization hit me. As I forced myself to examine his face more closely, I recognized him from the shadows of my past. He was strikingly beautiful in a haunting way, like Bootsy. His pale skin was almost luminescent, and his eyes, once hidden in the darkness, now revealed flecks of red that seemed to glow with a menacing, otherworldly light. They were mesmerizing yet horrifying, a dangerous allure that made my skin crawl. The spell he cast was broken as quickly as it had begun, and I struggled to look him in the eye again.

“You’re looking for me, aren’t you?” His voice was a silky whisper that seemed to wrap around me, tightening with a sinister intent.

Embarrassed by my earlier outburst, I nodded slowly. My hope of finding help felt increasingly elusive as the night grew darker and more menacing. All I wanted was to escape, but the hope that things might improve clung stubbornly to me. Taehyung exuded a disorienting blend of warmth and menace, a mix of comfort and dread that left me feeling more lost than ever.

“I’m sorry for being snappy,” I said, my voice quivering as I wiped away a tear. “I don’t remember you all that well.”

Or at all, my mind whispered in the encroaching darkness. The more I looked at him, the more I felt Hoseok’s oppressive influence tugging at my thoughts. Images of Hoseok’s touch, his voice, his eyes—each one flared in my mind with an insidious intensity. He misses you; he loves you, he needs you…

“Requiem was wrong,” Taehyung murmured, his fingers chillingly cold as they cradled my face. “You’re too far gone.”

“Who?” I managed to ask, my voice trembling and my head spinning. His touch was both numbing and intoxicating.

“Bootsy,” he cooed, his breath a mix of cotton and sweet pine needles. “She said you had a chance, but she was mistaken. My friend has already completed the bond.”

“W-what?” I whispered, dazed and confused. The throbbing ache in my head resonated with Taehyung’s presence. “What bond?”

“Maybe not,” he whispered, his proximity making my pulse race.

When his lips met mine, they were like ice, yet the jolt of electricity that surged through me made my knees buckle. His laughter was dark and twisted as he wrapped an arm around my waist, his tongue brushing against my lips. I mewled, clutching his shoulders as the electric sensation overwhelmed me. His groan sent shivers through my entire body, and the echo of Hoseok’s voice in my head was relentless. He misses you, he loves you, he needs you…

Suddenly, I shoved Taehyung away, gasping for air as a searing pain exploded in my head. It felt as if a sledgehammer had struck my temple. My vision swam, and I collapsed to my knees, tears streaming down my face as I sobbed uncontrollably.

“Poor child,” Taehyung crooned, kneeling beside me. His scent, soothing yet oddly comforting, did little to ease the tremors wracking my body. “I’m so sorry, but I cannot help you.”

“I’m going to die,” I sobbed, my voice cracking under the weight of my despair.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “The pain will lessen once you accept it; accept him.”

“What does he want?” I managed to choke out.

“Can’t you see?” Taehyung’s eyes glittered ominously in the dim light. “He believes he’s in love with you. It’s a pity, really. I want nothing more than to keep you, but I can’t risk angering him. He would destroy Requiem for revealing his secrets; she is my most cherished friend. Do you understand?”

Numbly, I nodded. I’m going to die. I miss him. I’m going to die. He loves you. I’m going to die. I need him. I’m going to die. I love him. He needs you. I’m—

“Your eyes look just like his,” Taehyung marveled, his gaze softening. “He’s bound to you in a way I’ve never seen before.”

As I stared at Taehyung, my vision began to blur, and the voices in my head whispered louder in the dark corners of my mind. Their weight pressed down on me, my eyes rolling back until all I could see was a void. When I came to, I was horrified to find vomit splattered across Taehyung’s pristine white shirt. His expression twisted in horror and pain as he watched me unravel.

A dark, malevolent presence loomed near, its acrid stench of soot and kerosene overwhelming my senses. My head throbbed as if it had been cleaved in two, and a grotesque, pecking sensation gnawed at my exposed, vulnerable insides. Taehyung’s icy touch against my rigid form offered little comfort as I lay helpless against his chest, terror seeping in with every passing second.

“There’s my girl!” Hoseok’s voice cut through the haze of despair, and just like that, the pain evaporated.

I exhaled, sinking into Taehyung’s embrace. His body felt like ice against my fevered skin, a chilling contrast that brought an unexpected relief. His cool fingers traced my scalp, their touch a soothing balm amidst the chaos.

“I hope you understand Bootsy’s decision,” Taehyung’s voice was as cold as his touch, carrying a weight of finality. “She thought you were still playing games. But she was wrong.”

A deep, resonant rumble filled the space, and Hoseok’s voice emerged from the darkness like a spectral echo.

“Requiem has every right to her judgment,” Hoseok said, his voice a smooth caress laced with menace. “If it were anyone else, I might not care. But Y/N’s suffering is a consequence of her meddling. I had hoped to keep her alive.”

“Why?” I croaked, the question barely escaping my lips.

“You’re my special girl,” Hoseok purred, his voice dripping with a twisted, cruel fondness. “So innocent, so malleable. You’re perfect.”

A strange calm enveloped me as I lay against Taehyung, the tumult of emotions and pain fading to a low murmur. Hoseok’s presence hung over me like a dark, oppressive cloud, his words a cruel mockery of the comfort I desperately sought.

Taehyung’s fingers moved through my hair with a cold, almost clinical precision. “You’ve been chosen,” he said softly, his voice carrying an unsettling calm. “It’s a rare bond that neither Bootsy nor I can undo. I wish there was something more I could do for you.”

My vision blurred, shadows of past anguish swirling around me. Hoseok’s voice echoed in my mind, a haunting lullaby that twisted my insides. “You’re mine, Y/N. No matter how you struggle, you are woven into my essence.”

The room seemed to constrict, the walls inching inward, shadows elongating and darkening. A biting chill settled over the space, the whispers of the damned intertwining with my deepest fears. I could almost see their forms, spectral and menacing, reaching out from the darkness.

I struggled to my feet, the world spinning dizzily around me. My head throbbed with a relentless ache, my heart pounding like a trapped bird. I stumbled away from Taehyung’s unnervingly composed presence, my eyes darting frantically for any sign of escape or salvation.

“Y/N,” Hoseok’s voice was a dissonant blend of soothing and threatening. “Don’t run from me. You belong here, with me.”

My breath came in ragged gasps, the overwhelming urge to flee battling with a stubborn thread of hope tangled in my despair. My thoughts were a chaotic mess, clinging to the faintest possibility of survival amidst the encroaching darkness.

I turned to Taehyung, my gaze pleading, desperate. “Is there no way out? Is there any hope left?”

Taehyung’s expression softened with a mixture of pity and sorrow. “Try to enjoy your final moments.”

Footsteps echoed ominously down the corridor, each step deliberate and foreboding. My heart leaped as a figure emerged from the gloom. Bootsy. Her presence was both a flicker of reassurance and a shadow of dread.

“I’m sorry,” Bootsy’s voice was a murmur of regret in the darkness.

I looked at her, then back at Taehyung, and finally at the encroaching shadows that seemed to reach out with a ravenous hunger. The weight of the choice, of my impending doom, pressed heavily on my chest, threatening to crush me under its gravity.

With a shuddering breath, I steeled myself. “I can’t let this happen to me,” I said, my voice trembling but resolute. “I don’t want this.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the darkness thickening. Hoseok’s laughter echoed through the void, a low, mocking sound that sent icy shivers down my spine. “Of course you do. You wouldn’t be writhing on the floor if you didn’t.”

The shadows deepened, the walls closing in as if reality itself was warping to ensnare me. A cold grip tightened around my soul, a force dragging me back into the abyss I had fought so hard to escape. An aching chill settled below my diaphragm, squeezing the breath from my lungs. My head spun again, his voice a soft whisper in the recesses of my mind. I miss you. I love you. I need you…

Don’t leave me.

Taehyung’s expression hardened into one of grim resignation. “You’re already bound to him. The bond is too strong.”

As I fought against the invisible chains tightening around me, the futility of my struggle became all too apparent. The darkness swallowed me whole, dragging me back into the depths I had desperately tried to escape.

“Please,” I whispered into the void, but the darkness consumed my plea. “Please, no.”

Hoseok’s voice filled the void, smooth and victorious. “Welcome home, darling.”

The last glimmers of light vanished, leaving me in an eternal night, a prisoner of my own choices and the dark forces that had ensnared me. My mind fractured under the weight of the consuming darkness, and as the final remnants of my resistance crumbled, I faced the harrowing truth.

There was no salvation. No escape. Only the endless, consuming dark.

And in that darkness, I was utterly, irrevocably alone.

I don’t know how long I’ve been trapped in this suffocating darkness—hours, days, months, or maybe even years. Time has become an abstract concept here, slipping through my grasp like the thin veil of reality that separates me from the void. The only link to the world beyond this prison is Hoseok, a ghostly presence who appears with a gleam in his eyes that chills me to the bone. His voice, carrying the weight of a thousand tortured souls, always asks the same haunting question: How are you feeling?

We were never friends. Each passing day has sharpened my memories into a cruel clarity. I don’t know where my physical body is—doubtful it’s anywhere near this place. The ink and paper I use to write materialize out of nowhere whenever I need them, appearing and disappearing like phantoms in my disturbed mind. This place defies all logic and reason.

Initially, I fought Hoseok with every ounce of my being. Each refusal brought excruciating pain that felt like it would tear me apart. My screams echoed back at me from the oppressive void, unanswered and ignored. Hoseok would slip into the darkness with a silent, predatory grace, his hot hands roaming over my shivering body before I even knew he was there. I would scramble away, howling and begging him to take me home, but he always left without a word.

Eventually, I gave up the fight. I accepted that escape was impossible, even though my soul still ached for my old life. The pain eased only when I surrendered, and Hoseok’s visits grew more frequent. They were filled with idle chatter about his plans for me. I learned he was a demon, and I was destined to become one too. The possession would erase most of who I once was, but when I awoke, we would be forever linked as master and shade. My freedom would only come after I took my first human life, but that day seemed impossibly distant. Hoseok savored every bite of my soul with a mournful delight.

What I felt for Hoseok wasn’t love—it was an obsession, a malignant force that had seeped into every corner of my being. “A natural reaction of a shade to its master,” he said. I was bound to him, and escape was nothing but a cruel illusion.

The first signs of my unraveling appeared when Hoseok vanished for days on end. In the infinite darkness, where time had no meaning, his absence was a torment of its own. Despite his power to bend reality, he chose to leave me here, dependent on his presence for any sign of change. I began talking to myself, my voice the only sound in the oppressive silence. I spoke for hours, my throat raw and hoarse from the effort, desperately trying to fend off the encroaching madness.

I felt like an addict in withdrawal. I don’t recall when hallucinations began, but soon I was conversing with a phantom chorus of voices. Deep down, I knew it was Hoseok orchestrating these illusions, but my fractured mind twisted reality into something I could barely comprehend. My hatred for him only served to cloud my already distorted perception.

As time dragged on, I grew weary. My speech turned into riddles, convinced I was a prophet receiving divine revelations. Raised Catholic, I had long drifted from faith, but the darkness reignited an obsession with God. I clung desperately to fragmented Bible verses. Hoseok, ever the manipulator, provided me with a Bible. If I weren’t so far gone, I might have questioned his uncanny ability to fulfill my twisted needs.

When I told Hoseok about my religious background, he laughed, and the darkness morphed into a cathedral. For the first time, there was something tangible to focus on during his absences. It was both a prison and a gift. The pews were filled with spectral congregants, and every day became Sunday. I feverishly wrote sermons, warning of the apocalypse. Hoseok attended with a devotion bordering on reverence, but he always left too soon.

The withdrawal pangs paralyzed me, but incessant talking kept the crushing loneliness at bay. I remember the first encounter after becoming accustomed to this madness. My body trembled with need, yet my mind remained alert. Each denial of release brought physical agony, and Hoseok’s visits grew more frequent and prolonged. My breakdown was inevitable.

On the day of my final descent, I felt his presence before I saw him. My struggle had reached its nadir. Despite my lingering hope for escape, Hoseok’s presence shattered my resolve. I became an all-too-willing participant in his dark designs. Even now, as I lie prostrate in my despair, I can’t escape the haunting reality of my existence.

The words of the prayer rolled off my tongue like a ghostly murmur in the dim, solemn church. Each syllable was a desperate plea, a sacrament of my crumbling faith:

“Soul of Christ, sanctify me.”

“Body of Christ, save me.”

“Blood of Christ, inebriate me.”

This prayer was a twisted sacrament, a litany of sacred pleas that felt increasingly like cries into the void.

“Water from Christ’s side, wash me.”

“Passion of Christ, strengthen me.”

“O good Jesus, hear me.”

I bowed my head, eyes squeezed shut like a child hiding from monsters under the bed. My hands gripped tightly in a futile attempt to hold onto my sanity. I prayed not just for absolution but for a distraction, for him to stay away, for the sinful thoughts to dissipate like smoke in the sun.

“Y/N,” a voice whispered, spectral and insistent, urging me to rise, to accept, to finally bend to its will.

Reluctantly, I dragged myself to the pulpit, my legs trembling. I focused on the Gospel before me, the rhythm of my breath, the rehearsed words of today’s homily. I could hear murmurs of anticipation swelling in the pews, bouncing off the stone walls like echoes of forgotten promises.

Did they know? Did they sense the darkness creeping into my soul?

To be honest, I was unsure if anyone was really there or if my mind was playing tricks on me. This place had a maddening ability to distort my perception. I steadied myself, nodding to the organ player, offering a fleeting smile to the choir’s children—figments of my fractured mind. Their eyes, hungry for guidance, believed in my wisdom, though I felt utterly unworthy. Their gaze was a reflection of my own inner torment.

My eyes locked on a figure in the front row, right side, five seats in. My breath hitched, caught in my throat, as I beheld him. Jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket—an irreverent defiance slicing through the sanctity of the church. His gaze was a burning, unholy fire that cut through the darkness with unnerving clarity.

In that moment, the last vestiges of my sanity crumbled, leaving me exposed to the consuming darkness that had become my prison.

I steadied myself, nodding to the organ player, and offered a fleeting smile to the choir’s children, who I no longer believed were real. My gaze wandered over the congregation, each face a testament to a faith I felt unworthy of. Their eyes, brimming with expectation, seemed to pierce through me, demanding guidance I could no longer provide. I questioned my own sanity, wondering if anyone in that room could see how profoundly empty I felt.

I once had everything figured out. Before this… before him.

My eyes locked on a single figure in the front row, right side, five seats in. My breath hitched, caught in my throat. There he was: jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket—a casual defiance that sliced through the church’s sanctity like a blade. His legs were crossed, hands poised by his sides, eyes ablaze with a fire that seemed to burn straight through my composure.

No holy book in his hands, no righteous smile on his lips—just an unspoken, rebellious challenge. His presence was a magnetism that pulled me toward a pit of temptation and sin. I forgot my sermon. I forgot the vows and promises etched into my soul. The solemn pledges made to men of faith and to God. Promises I had written daily to stave off the creeping insanity.

Those promises now felt like distant echoes, overshadowed by him. His eyes, his lips, his rebellious aura—an inferno of forbidden heat that ignited a longing I could no longer contain. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to escape the searing image of him. Abs, legs, an all-consuming heat that seemed to draw me into its vortex.

When I opened my eyes again, the fire remained. A cough from the crowd jolted me back to the present. I tugged at my collar, the symbol of my childhood and a cruel gift from Hoseok. It used to offer comfort, a sign of belonging, but now it felt like a noose tightening around my neck.

The faces of the congregation were a sea of silent, unspoken questions. Their eyes bored into me, filled with unvoiced suspicions and judgments.

Shit.

My fingers trembled as I gripped the edges of the pulpit, trying to anchor myself amidst the spiraling chaos. The eyes of the congregation felt like spectral judgments, each one a reminder of my spiraling failure. Hoseok’s presence, fixed in my peripheral vision, was a constant, unsettling pull—a dark promise of chaos just beyond the edge of reason. It pressed heavily on my chest, a suffocating weight threatening to collapse my fragile sanity.

I forced my gaze back to the Gospel, attempting to focus on the familiar lines of scripture, hoping they would restore my fractured resolve. But the words on the page blurred and twisted, tangled in the storm raging inside my head. Each verse felt like wading through molasses, and a bead of sweat trickled down my temple, mingling with the cold sweat already gathering at the base of my neck. I cleared my throat, trying to regain control, but the sound emerged as a strangled rasp.

The whispers grew louder, like rustling wings pressing against the walls of my sanity. My heart pounded like a funeral drum, each beat a reminder of my mounting desperation. I could almost hear the devil’s laughter, mocking my feeble attempts to maintain a façade of righteousness.

Hoseok’s gaze was unwavering, a predator’s gaze that seemed to sear through my composure. His movements were fluid, deliberate—like a hunter preparing to strike. My mind raced, desperately searching for an escape from this hellish vortex. I glanced at the crucifix behind me, its hollow eyes and outstretched arms now a pitifully inadequate shield against the encroaching darkness. The sacred symbol that once offered solace now seemed like a cruel joke, highlighting how far I had strayed from purity.

The murmurs of the congregation grew insistent, a chorus of impatient whispers that echoed like an unholy chant. The church, once a sanctuary, now closed in around me, its weight suffocating. I took a deep breath, summoning the last remnants of my willpower. I forced myself to meet Hoseok’s gaze again, confronting the fiery rebellion in his eyes. He offered no sympathy, only a silent taunt that echoed my own guilt.

With a trembling hand, I reached for the microphone. My voice cracked as I began to speak, the words spilling out in a disjointed stream. I struggled to reclaim my authority, but with each passing moment, my grip on sanity slipped further. The congregation’s expressions shifted from curiosity to concern, then to alarm. Their faith faltered under the weight of my unraveling composure.

Hoseok’s gaze remained fixed, a dark star in a sea of light, drawing me inexorably towards his gravitational pull. My voice faltered, becoming increasingly erratic, reflecting the chaos within. The church fell into a tense silence, broken only by the rustling of the congregation’s uneasy shifting. I felt every eye on me, their silent judgment a palpable force.

My final words came out as a barely coherent murmur, a defeated whisper lost in the oppressive silence. I stumbled away from the pulpit, my mind a tempest of confusion and dread. As I retreated from the glaring scrutiny of the congregation, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was stumbling towards some dark, inevitable reckoning. Hoseok’s gaze followed me, a constant, unsettling presence as I fled the sanctuary.

I collapsed into the shadows behind the altar, my breath coming in ragged gasps that echoed through the oppressive silence of the church. The darkness around me felt like a living entity, wrapping itself around my chest and squeezing, threatening to suffocate me. Hoseok's eyes lingered in my mind, their haunting intensity a constant reminder of the sin and torment that had become my existence. The certainty of my spiraling downfall felt inescapable, and every breath I took seemed to deepen my dread.

The pews had emptied in an instant, leaving the room cloaked in a suffocating silence. My heart pounded as I watched Hoseok move toward me. The man before me was no longer the mortal guise he had once worn; his true form emerged, dark and unnervingly compelling. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now burned with a shadowed hunger that quickened my pulse with a mix of terror and something I couldn’t quite name.

“Y/N.” His voice, soft and reverent, seemed to carry a sacramental weight that sent an icy shiver down my spine. There was a truth hidden in those syllables, a meaning only he understood. As his nearness intensified, confusion and fear danced across my features. His calm, deliberate hand cradled my cheek, the touch both tender and overwhelming. The heat of my skin seemed to beckon to him, an invitation that terrified and enthralled me simultaneously.

"You're so lovely," he whispered, his voice a gentle murmur that barely masked the wild intensity in his eyes. His touch guided me backward with a grace that felt almost otherworldly. The church seemed to dissolve around us, melting away into a space that was unsettlingly familiar—a fragment of my life from New York. The red brick of the two-story house brought a strange, bittersweet comfort, like a fragment of a life I had once known. It calmed my racing heart with its eerie familiarity. He led me to the front door, his touch both comforting and possessive.

The lock yielded effortlessly, and as we crossed the threshold, the gravity of the situation settled like a stone in my stomach. The house, once a sanctuary of normalcy, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in with a menacing intimacy.

"So perfectly lovely," he murmured again as he closed the door behind us. I stumbled back, my nerves crackling with an unsettling energy. It wasn’t just fear anymore—it was something darker and more confusing. A part of me ached for normalcy, for escape, while another part was drawn to him with a desperate, confusing need. The line between terror and an inexplicable, forbidden desire blurred beyond recognition. I clung to the last shreds of my sanity, even as I felt myself unraveling under the weight of my own conflicted emotions.

"Why are we here?" I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of breathlessness and an unspoken longing. My heart pounded with a confusing blend of fear and desire. It was as if clarity had returned to me for a fleeting moment, yet I was still tethered to the confusion Hoseok had woven into my days. His promises of relief had begun to erode the pain, even as they wrapped around me like a vice. I remembered the dreams he'd planted in my mind, their seductive whispers blurring my sense of reality.

"I thought you might feel more at ease here," he said softly, his tone smooth and soothing as he followed me through the cluttered living room. Each backward step I took seemed to draw him closer, his presence an inescapable shadow. "Do you like it?"

I hesitated, glancing around at the artifacts of my past—family photos, treasured mementos, relics of a life that now felt so distant. The room was a museum of a future slipping away from me, and Hoseok's eyes seemed intent on taking it all. "Yes, I do," I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. The room, once a sanctuary of normalcy, now felt like a stage for his dark play.

"I'd like a drink," I said, placing a hand over my racing heart. I clung to the pretense of normalcy, desperate to maintain some semblance of control. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt a flicker of my old self. "Is there anything here? Surely you would... like one... as well."

Hoseok, having long since discarded any pretense of humanity, closed the distance between us with unsettling swiftness. His movements were almost too fluid, his presence too intense. His hands, warm and steady, framed my face with a possessive grace, his gaze fixed on the pulse in my neck, the rich, inviting blood beneath my skin.

"Oh, Y/N, my sweet, innocent little lamb." His voice, a velvety murmur, sent a shiver down my spine. His touch, trailing down to my neck, felt both magnetic and maddening. His eyes lingered on my flesh with a hunger that was almost palpable, a craving that seemed to consume him as much as it did me.

I trembled in his embrace, my conflicting desires mirrored in his touch. A soft moan escaped my lips, my breath warm and trembling with a heady mix of fear and desire. His smile widened, a predatory glint in his eyes as he encircled my waist, his touch moving possessively lower, tracing the curve of my hips and thighs. The tension between fight and flight heightened the charged atmosphere, leaving me both desperate and disoriented.

His eyes traced the flush of my lips, a reflection of the flush between my legs. The scent of my arousal mingled with my anxious heartbeat, a call to the beast inside him. His senses seemed overwhelmed by the promise of my warmth, the floral sweetness of my skin, and the earthy musk of my desire.

"You don't want... a drink?" I stammered, struggling to grasp the situation, to find a shred of reason amid the chaos of my emotions.

"Oh yes, Y/N. I very much desire a... drink." His smile was amused, his lips hovering just above mine. The taste of his breath, mingling with his tantalizing scent, sparked a deep, primal hunger within me. I was alive with all these unfulfilled needs, caught between an overwhelming desire and a paralyzing fear.

I inhaled shakily, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. "What... would you like?" The question was a desperate plea for clarity, a tenuous grasp at the last vestiges of control in a world that had become a tumultuous blur of lust and dread.

A low laugh rumbled in Hoseok’s throat as he brushed his lips over mine, savoring the teasing trace of my flavor. "I want you, Y/N. I want to drink you." His honesty was laced with a raw, consuming need, a plea that mirrored the chaotic mix of longing and fear surging through me. It was clear he had no intention of letting me escape—not now. His tongue traced the corners of my mouth, and his body pressed against mine, making his heat seep through every layer of fabric that separated us.

I trembled, caught in a storm of conflicting emotions. The scents of my home—the cheap cotton sheets, synthetic pillows, and lingering traces of my perfume—led him with a haunting familiarity. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me with a purposeful stride, and placed me gently at the foot of my bed. The moonlight offered only a weak shield against the encroaching darkness that seemed to swallow us whole.

My heart raced, feeling like a delicate butterfly trapped in a predatory web. As he dropped his coat to the floor and drew me into a deep kiss, my earlier uncertainty dissolved into a raw, electric need. Each touch of his fingers against my body made me shiver, a mix of anticipation and dread coiling tightly within me.

The bed was unmade, its disarray a silent testament to my disordered state. His scent lingered in the tangled sheets and blankets as he lowered me onto them. My sweat-dampened palms gripped his hair, my fingers exploring the nape of his neck and shoulders. The buttons on his shirt came undone beneath my trembling hands, my desire growing bolder despite the icy grip of fear that clenched at my chest. His groan as his teeth grazed my throat made me arch my hips, pressing closer, driven by a need I couldn't fully understand.

My clothes fell away under his hands, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. His eyes devoured every curve of my body, his gaze as palpable as his touch. His mouth descended on mine, hungry and insatiable, and I was enveloped by him, lost in a swirling tempest of our shared desire. His touch became a language, one that read my body with an intimate knowledge I was helpless to resist.

As he explored my secret places, my soft sighs turned into desperate pleas. His searing touch brought goosebumps to my skin, but I pressed closer, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving me. I was caught between wanting more and the creeping dread of losing myself entirely.

"Y/N," he groaned, his voice a dark promise. "I want to consume you." His words were a growl, a warning wrapped in seductive desire.

"Yes, I want you to. Do it. Take me," I panted, clutching at his shirt sleeve. My body spoke louder than words, arching upwards in desperate need. I knew I didn't fully understand what I was asking for, but the awareness was drowned out by the intensity of my longing.

His hands covered my breasts, his fingers finding my nipples. I gasped, pushing closer as his mouth found each tip, his low growl sending shivers through me. My heart raced beneath his lips, the rush of blood whispering of more delights to come. I arched again, my body twisting off the bed, craving more.

His mouth sucked at my nipple, his tongue flicking to heighten my pleasure. His thigh pressed between mine, the fabric of his jeans rasping over my nakedness, igniting a desperate heat. I moaned and bucked against him, my fingers digging into his arms as I convulsed beneath him, reaching the peak of my desire. The exhilaration of the moment was punctuated by the fear that clawed at the edges of my consciousness, a persistent reminder that I was teetering on the brink of something both irresistible and terrifying.

The climax left me gasping, trembling, caught in a whirlwind of confusion and overwhelming need. Each wave of pleasure only heightened my fear, and my body’s reaction seemed to betray my mind's desperate protests. His touch, relentless and insistent, found a rhythm that both seduced and terrified me. I cried out, unable to stop the sounds that escaped my lips, but a part of me wanted to resist.

I tried to pull away, my hand grasping his wrist with a frantic intensity. "What... what are you doing to me…?" My voice was a ragged whisper, trembling with a blend of confusion and fear.

He looked at me with a dark, hungry smile, his eyes alight with a dangerous fire. "Y/N, don’t lie to yourself," he said softly, his fingers curling in ways that made my body shudder. "You’re not overwhelmed. Your body is telling me you want this. You’re close to coming again. I can feel it."

My protests dissolved into incoherent moans as his touch stimulated a spot deep within me. The pleasure was a cruel paradox, blurring the line between ecstasy and dread. I could barely think, my mind clouded by the intensity of his actions.

"No, Hoseok, it’s too much," I whimpered, struggling to catch my breath. "I can’t..."

His mouth moved to mine, his lips teasing, his breath warm against my skin. "You’re a beautiful little liar," he murmured. "It’s not too much. You crave this. You know you do. Beg for it."

The force of his command broke through my haze of desire. "Please, Hoseok...," I gasped, my will crumbling under his dominance. My words felt like a betrayal, but I couldn’t stop myself from begging. "Please, just... take me."

His satisfaction was palpable, a dangerous hunger in his eyes. His touch grew more urgent, driving me to the brink of madness. I was lost in a maelstrom of sensation, my mind screaming to pull away, but my body’s response only seemed to draw him closer.

The moment of his thrust was jarring, a mix of pain and pleasure that overwhelmed me. My body reacted instinctively, my hips rising to meet him even as my mind struggled to grasp the reality of what was happening. The intense pleasure was intermingled with a profound fear, a dread of losing myself completely.

His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as though he were chasing an elusive climax. I was limp in his arms, my breathing ragged, torn between an unbearable desire and an escalating terror.

Despite my growing fear, I clung to him, my hands fumbling for some semblance of control. My kisses were desperate, seeking to anchor myself amidst the chaos. His touch was relentless, and every stroke seemed to heighten the conflict within me.

He pressed closer, his hands exploring with a possessive intensity. My body’s reactions were at odds with my thoughts, creating a tumultuous storm of sensation and fear. My mind raced, grappling with the realization of what was happening, but the pleasure was so consuming that it blurred the line between consent and coercion.

As the moment approached, I felt his breath on my neck, a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked beneath his seductive veneer. The final act was a blur, my fear mingling with an overwhelming rush of sensation.

I was a walking paradox—caught between heaven and hell, life and death, sin and redemption. His presence was a fiery furnace, consuming me with the heat of stolen life he had been deprived of for so long. My body clenched around him, a pulsating rhythm that seemed to drive him to the edge of his sanity. His pleasure was overwhelming, a torrent of sensations that painted the world in a chaotic blaze of colors.

“Hoseok, please…” I whispered, my voice a fragile breath against the overpowering cacophony of sensations. I wasn’t sure if my plea was for him to stop or to continue, a desperate cry from a place deep within me that I couldn’t fully comprehend. My fear was a gnawing presence, clawing at the edges of my desire, but the confusion of what I wanted and what I was willing to accept blurred together.

His eyes were dark with a twisted satisfaction as he sensed the last of my climax and my blood draining from me. The thought of taking me to the brink of death both exhilarated and haunted him. His grip tightened, and with a guttural snarl, he pulled away from my neck, his fangs retracting with a mixture of frustration and reluctant restraint. The rush of his thirst roared inside him, but he forced himself to temper his need.

I was an indulgence he wouldn’t be denied again, a forbidden pleasure he was determined to claim. He gently laid me back on the disheveled sheets, my heartbeat weak and fluttering. He licked the last drops of blood from my skin, his breath ragged and uneven. Each touch was deliberate, sealing the wounds with a final, lingering caress—a practical necessity for a demon who wanted to savor every part of me.

“Mine,” he growled, his voice a low, dark promise that vibrated through my core. “You are mine, Y/N. From now until death claims you, until I claim you.” His breath was warm and heavy against my face. My eyelids fluttered, barely able to focus, but his words penetrated my haze. “If any other man dares to touch you, I will tear him apart. Remember this, my beautiful little lamb. Remember who you belong to.”

“Hoseok,” I murmured, my voice a faint echo of surrender. His satisfaction was palpable, a twisted delight in my obedience and submission. He rose and slipped out of the room, leaving me tangled in sheets and blankets. From across the street, hidden in the shadows, he watched and listened, his gaze a persistent weight on my fragile state.

As dawn’s first light crept through the blinds, it painted the room in a sickly, eerie glow. I lay amidst the tangled sheets, each twist revealing new bruises and bite marks—a grotesque map of the night’s events etched into my skin. The aftermath was a haunting blend of pleasure and torment, an unsettling reminder of what had transpired.

Hoseok’s presence lingered in the room like a shadow that refused to lift. The darkness he brought with him clung to the corners, an inescapable reminder of the nightmare I had just lived through. My mind, once a storm of fear and confusion, now spun in a twisted acceptance—a deranged serenity that felt as liberating as it was unsettling.

The door creaked open like the groan of an old house settling into its own despair. Hoseok reappeared, his eyes still gleaming with that predatory glow, but now softened by an unsettling tenderness. He moved towards me with a deliberate grace, each step imbued with a dark reverence that made my heart pound with a blend of fear and reluctant desire.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice a low, seductive murmur that slithered across the room. “Do you understand now? You are mine, every inch of you.”

I looked up at him, my smile a grotesque reflection of the twisted contentment that had taken root in me. It was not a smile of joy or freedom but a shadowy acknowledgment of a reality I could no longer escape. My old life had withered into obscurity, replaced by the suffocating reality Hoseok had imposed upon me.

“Yes,” I breathed, the word barely escaping my lips. “I belong to you.”

The truth of my submission felt like a heavy, warm blanket, pressing down on me with an oppressive weight. Despite the enormity of what I had given up—my freedom, my chance to reclaim any semblance of my old life—there was an undeniable satisfaction in surrendering wholly to him. The pain and loss had twisted into a perverse form of fulfillment, filling the void in my chest with a dark semblance of love.

Hoseok’s smile widened, a dark curve that spoke of unyielding possession. He reached out, his hand caressing my cheek with a gentleness that clashed violently with the ferocity of his claim. The room seemed to close in around us, the air thick with a palpable tension, as if the very walls bore witness to my surrender.

“You will never leave me,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto mine with an unbreakable determination. “You are mine, forever.”

I nodded, the movement small and almost imperceptible, but it was enough. It was a surrender, a relinquishment of my will to the dark force that was Hoseok. He pulled me into his arms, and I felt my resolve melt away, my body becoming a canvas for his power, intermingling with the strange warmth of our shared connection.

As his darkness enveloped me, I felt a disturbing sense of belonging. In the shadows of the night, under his control, my fears and desires tangled together, creating a new reality that was both terrifying and intoxicating. In that moment, I understood there was no turning back. I was his, bound in body and soul by the twisted threads of fate and desire.

Hoseok’s eyes softened as he pulled me close, his cold skin a stark contrast to the feverish heat of my own body. His embrace was a strange sanctuary, a place where I felt both ensnared and cherished. My mind, once a battleground of conflicting emotions, had slipped into a state of blissful madness. In Hoseok’s dark embrace, I discovered a twisted joy that defied all rational thought.

“I’ve given you everything,” he murmured, his breath cold against my ear. “We are bound now, Y/N. Forever.”

His words were a chilling promise that resonated through the marrow of my bones, a haunting echo that left me trembling uncontrollably. I clung to him, my grip a mix of desperate need and profound terror, as a disturbing form of happiness took root in the darkest corners of my mind. The loss of my old life, the sacrifice of everything I had once held dear, seemed like a fevered dream compared to the unsettling contentment I felt in his arms.

As the first light of dawn filtered into the room, casting long, distorted shadows that twisted and writhed, I looked at Hoseok with a gaze that was both adoring and disturbingly fractured. The vibrant world I had once known had dissolved into a distant memory, replaced by a nightmarish existence defined by the twisted love and passion we shared. My heart swelled with a love so profound it overshadowed any lingering regret, even as my mind spiraled further into chaos.

Hoseok’s final words were a chilling promise wrapped in disturbing tenderness. “Remember, Y/N,” he whispered softly, his voice a ghostly caress in the dim light. “You are mine, in every sense—in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul.”

As the door creaked shut behind him, the morning light seeping in like a reluctant witness, I was left enveloped in the oppressive embrace of the darkness we had forged together. My smile, twisted and unnatural, reflected the bizarre, unsettling happiness I had found in the abyss. I was forever bound to the night, my soul tangled in the shadows of Hoseok’s dark desires.

The room seemed to breathe with the remnants of his presence, each corner cloaked in an oppressive stillness that mirrored the void he had filled within me. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony of fragmented thoughts that raged in my mind. Now, there was only the echo of his words, the haunting promise of a future forever intertwined with his darkness.

I lay there, wrapped in the aftermath of our twisted union, my body marked by the evidence of his possession. Each bruise, each bite mark was a grotesque map of the new life I had been forced into. The pain was now a distant echo, overshadowed by the profound and disturbing contentment that gnawed at my chest—a contentment born of both surrender and madness.

As the minutes ticked by and the morning light grew stronger, I found myself replaying his final words in my mind, my thoughts fracturing with each repetition. “You are mine, in every sense—in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul.” The truth of those words reverberated through me like a haunting mantra, a binding contract signed with my very essence, even as my grip on reality slipped further away.

There was no turning back, no reclaiming the life I had once known. I was irrevocably his, a willing participant in the dark dance we had begun. The thought brought a grotesque smile to my lips, a smile that spoke of a happiness found in the shadows, a contentment born of surrender and madness.

At least, I wanted to believe it was madness alone that made me forget how afraid I was.

October 31, 2024

The house had become an enigmatic beast, its former guise of normalcy utterly transformed. From the street, it looked like any other home—silent and shadowy against the midnight sky. But within its walls, it was something else entirely. The shutters were clamped shut, keeping out any unwelcome glimmers of daylight. The curtains, heavy with dust, obscured the outside world, making everything inside a surreal, dreamlike blur.

Within this labyrinth of darkness, the house seemed like a twisted echo of a familiar nightmare. The air was thick with the mingling scents of old incense and stale dreams, creating a heavy, almost intoxicating atmosphere. Flickering candlelight cast eerie, jittery shadows that danced and twisted, as if mocking my attempts at normalcy. Silence pressed down on me, almost alive in its oppressive weight.

Days blurred into one another, each indistinguishable from the next in a fog of disorientation. Hoseok’s routines had become my own, though I couldn’t quite remember how or when they had taken over. My existence revolved around small tasks—cooking, cleaning, and performing acts of devotion—that had evolved into a kind of ritualistic pattern. It was as though each action was a silent offering to the enigmatic darkness that had enveloped our lives.

When I glanced in the mirror, the person staring back was a ghostly apparition of my former self. My face, serene to the point of being unsettling, bore a look of eerie contentment. I was a wraith, drifting through my days with a confusing mix of dread and satisfaction.

As night fell, the house came alive with an almost palpable energy. Hoseok’s presence was overwhelming, filling the space with his dark, commanding aura. His arrival was always marked by the ritualistic locking of doors, a subtle reminder of his control. The sensations of pleasure and pain that accompanied his touch had become a surreal symphony, a haunting reminder of the path I had chosen.

One particularly cold night, as the moonlight filtered through the grime-covered windows, Hoseok and I stood together, looking out into the void. The world outside was a distant blur, an irrelevant expanse that felt disconnected from my reality. The sky stretched above us, a vast, unyielding black, reflecting the emptiness of my existence. We were bound together by something primal and deep, though its true nature remained elusive.

Time inside these walls seemed to warp and distort. The house, once a symbol of normalcy, had turned into a crypt of our peculiar existence. The outside world had faded into obscurity, replaced by the certainty of Hoseok’s presence. I had found a strange form of happiness in this eternal night, where the terror of the outside world had been replaced by the dark, enveloping comfort of Hoseok’s embrace.

As I settled into my favorite worn leather chair, the house seemed to pulse with anticipation for Hoseok’s return. My knitting supplies were spread around me, with a scarf for Hoseok in progress. I hummed softly, my heart beating with a sense of calm and eager expectancy, as if I were awaiting a beloved dream to resume.

I replayed our last conversation in my mind, Hoseok’s words lingering like a haunting melody. “An old friend is coming for a visit,” he’d said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “She’s good at dealing with werewolves.”

I couldn’t suppress a bubbling laugh, the sound rising unbidden. “Isn’t she the one Namjoon’s obsessed with?”

His kiss on my temple had been darkly tender, sending shivers of pleasure through me. “Clever girl. It will be fun.”

I teased him playfully. “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

His laughter resonated through me, sending a thrill down my spine. “When have I ever been nice, lamb?”

“Nice to me,” I’d replied, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Very, very nice.”

Settling back into the leather chair, the hearth’s flickering light casting long, shifting shadows, I resumed my knitting with a serene focus. Each stitch felt like a small act of devotion, a testament to my growing obsession. I hummed softly, my heart a silent witness to the peace I had found in this twisted, eternal night. The lines between fear and love, sanity and madness, had merged into a strange, intoxicating tapestry that I no longer fully understood.

Hoseok said I was perfect. His praise was a balm to my disoriented soul.

I smiled, pushing away any lingering doubts about my sanity. I was fine. I was perfect.

Pager Codes:

110 307 - Go To Bar

209 - On My Way

08 - OK

420 - You’re in trouble

3011 - Be Careful

221 - Where are you?

419 - I don’t understand

100 - Come Back

126 notes · View notes

bits-and-babs · 2 years ago

Text

✰ 𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐘 - 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 ‘𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓’ 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

↳ summary: prompt: “Shall we put that mouth to better use?” — A particularly crass comment over the radio almost exposes your secret situationship with Ghost.

↳ pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader (Delta)

↳ [1k] content: 18+ MDNI. Violence, murder, injury detail, slight jealous Simon, secret relationship, panties as a gag, size kink, p in v sex, punishment, soft!dom-sub dynamic, tied wrists.

ghost masterlist I| main masterlist |I join taglist

“Taking out the trash, Ghost?”

You shouldn’t have said it– It just slipped out. A reference to a ridiculous joke that Soap had made over the coms once. You can hear the Scotsman giggling over the radio, evidently finding your remark hilarious.

“You’re pushing it now, Delta,” Ghost’s gruff accent crackles across the coms, the thud of a body slumping to the floor punctuating his warning. It’s terrible, really. You watch him work through a wall of mercenaries, jabbing his serrated huntsman’s knife into the soft walls of their jugular veins and shooting them through the temple with a silenced gun while you observe from the relative safety of the CCTV centre. “It’s like I’ve got deja vu.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” you mumble, trying to move past your obvious overstep.

“You’ve been spendin’ too much time with Soap,” Ghost cuts through your quiet apology like the throats of the men that crumple to his feet. “Gonna start assignin’ you missions with Alejandro instead.”

The spluttering disbelief of the Scotsman on the line just makes you smile, shaking your head at the jealousy Simon was attempting to disguise with authority. You watch him peek over the crate he’s hidden behind, scanning for hostiles.

“To the left, Lieutenant,” you advise him to advance. He crouches his gigantic body as low to the ground as he can, flipping the knife handle in his hand for a better grip. The blood of his victims paints his hands dark on the grainy black and white footage of the CCTV cameras. Soap ceases his wordless, bumbling protests while you both hold your breaths, waiting for Ghost to take the mercenary out.

It’s a simple dispatch. Simon plunges the crimson-laden blade into the neck of the unsuspecting target and lowers the body to the floor as he scrambles at his neck desperately. You hear the choking death rattles over the radio before he falls silent.

“She’s learnin’ from the best, L.t.,” Soap continues, finally piecing his incoherent sounds into a sentence. You hear the muted scoff on the other end of the mic and can’t help the giggle that falls past your lips.

“There’s a lot more where that came from,” you smile, watching Ghost clear the courtyard. The members of Task Force 141 watch from the shadows, readying for his approval to advance and open fire on the inhabitants of the abandoned construction site that the local drug lords appropriated as a central hub.

“How ‘bout we put that mouth to better use?” Simon answers with little thought, the coquettish comment catching the attention of the others on the line.

Gaz whistles, and you hear Alejandro chuckle.

“L.t!” Soap speaks up, and you can tell that he’s grinning from the smug tone of his voice, “A little saucy, don’t ya think?”

“Careful, Sergeant.”

No one dares speak up again, the silence over the coms only broken when Ghost gives the order. Conversation is replaced with the roar of bullet spray and bodies thumping to the floor.

✰

Arousal coats your tongue as Simon’s gloved fingers shove the cotton fabric of your panties into your mouth. You whimper softly, tears welling in your eyes at the burning stretch. Ghost had thrust into you all at once, the blunt head of his cock searing up against your cervix and blooming white hot in the pit of your stomach.

“Shush,” Simon scolds you, but his gruff voice holds no malice. It’s punishment, you think, retribution for putting him in a position where your little trysts could have been found out. Of course, there’s no real blame aimed at you, but Ghost likes having a reason to penalise you, so to speak.

You choke back a sob, feeling the rippling muscles of his abdomen rear up beneath your fingertips and thrust deep inside you. He’s bruising your guts like this, settling you on top of his hips as he lies back. Wrists bound behind your back with a crystal-white zip tie, your skin blooms with a bruise as you kneel helplessly over his cock, forced to take whatever he gives.

“Got nothin’ to say, love?” The midnight black of Ghost’s mask conceals the smirk you know is tugging on his plush lips, and you can just barely make out the gleam in his eyes through the murkiness of the tears welling at your waterline. The sweet taste of your own slick soaked into the cotton of your panties gags you, and you can only manage a desperate shake of your head before Simon brutally thrusts up into you.

The ache is brutal, each savage stroke rattling your lungs and jolting your body upwards. Your nails dig into the soft skin stretched across Simon’s rock-hard abdomen, and you hear him groan beneath the balaclava fabric. His huge palms swallow your hips, digits burying into the flesh there.

“Be good for me, love,” he growls, “Nice and quiet now.”

It’s pointless, you just barely think. The cot beneath you is so rickety that you’re sure that the team will hear the squeaking of the metal frame even past the stone walls of the safehouse you all shared for the night.

A fierce snap of Ghost’s hips winds you, a squeak working past the bunched-up fabric of your panties stuffed in your mouth. Your head lolls back, eyes rolling as his cockhead punches up against something mind-numbing. It sparks white-hot plasma across your skin, tendrils spidering down your spine.

“C’mon,” he urges, the rumble in his voice almost breathy with exertion, “Stay quiet, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You can’t. As the orgasm builds in the pit of your stomach with how Simon’s cock batters something blissful inside you, needy, muffled wails of bliss worm their way up your throat despite your best efforts to swallow them down. You needn’t bother because Ghost is too far gone to care who hears, chasing his high with a strained choke of your name.

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sorryimananti-romantic · 2 years ago

Text

Deja Vu

hades!seonghwa x persephone!reader / prosecutor!seonghwa x florist!reader

past life/reincarnation au

genre and warnings: a lot of fluff, lots of angst, slow burn, suggestive, swearing, violence warning

word count: 22k

synopsis: you move to the city to open a floral cafe with wooyoung but encounter seonghwa by chance and become involved with him as he investigates the biggest drug scandal in the history of wonderland. however, a number of coincidences follow and you start to question if you were meant to meet him especially when you're plagued by dreams of another life with him. as the events of the past intertwine with the present, you both struggle to keep your feelings in check.

There were a number of things you had been afraid of ever since you moved into the heart of Sector 1 to live with your friend Siyeon after spending your whole childhood with your overbearing mother at the outskirts of the town.

Some of them included the ‘basic’ fears that you shared with your mom- you’d get into an accident, get kidnapped, get in trouble, etc. The list was never ending and also unlikely to happen if you had to say.

Your own fears were more like your mom paying a surprise visit to check on you, finding Siyeon doing something weird like she was always doing and take you back home. Or, she could be visiting the city and accidentally run across you and Wooyoung while you scrooged the area for a potential place for your cafe, find Wooyoung doing some crazy shit like he was always doing, and lose her blind trust in him and take you back home. You were surrounded by the craziest people but somehow, your mother trusted you with both Siyeon and Wooyoung.

However, as you grabbed the hand of a stranger and ran for your life while gunshots sounded behind you, your first thought was, now that’s one scenario I didn’t prepare myself for. Especially when you didn’t even know why you were running.

You ran from one street into another, his hand gripping yours tightly, until you took the lead and slid into a narrow alley, hiding yourselves behind large boxes. You both waited for the sound of running footsteps to fade when you finally looked at him-

And found a very familiar face staring at you. You frowned in confusion- you had definitely seen him somewhere, but you couldn’t recall where. And he, too, frowned as if he was trying to make sense of you. You scanned his appearance- he was dressed in a suit, his dark hair matted on his forehead, eyes sharp. You licked your dry lips. “I’m sorry- do I know you?”

“If you’re wondering why I dragged you,” he said and you thought his rich deep voice sounded familiar too, “Those men were after me. They wouldn’t have cared if you had gotten in the way- they would have hurt you.”

You rested your head against the wall, trying not to groan. You were out of breath. The man asked you to wait and went to check if the area was clear. He returned looking relieved and offered you his hand which you took to get up. He took out a card. “Prosecutor Park Seonghwa. I’m sorry for involving you- investigation went wrong.”

You gave him a sceptical look as you scanned the card. “Must be a dangerous case you’re working on.”

“You could say that,” he shrugged. “Are you alright? You scraped your feet- let me take a look at that.”

Before you could protest, he was down on one knee examining the long slash across your feet. It wasn’t noticeable when you were running but it ached now. You stepped back. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? It looks painful,” he bit his lips as he got up, looking guilty.

“I didn’t even notice it before-”

“Let me accompany you to the convenience store then,” he insisted.

“It’s not necessary,” you almost pouted but he didn’t look like he was going to back away. “Okay. I’ll accept that as an apology.”

He scoffed, urging you to follow him, watching you to check if you had a problem walking. Thankfully, you didn’t and you walked with him to the store which was a few minutes away. He made you sit inside and paid for the first aid and while you applied ointment on the wound, he made you some ramen and even got a few side dishes.

“You didn’t have to,” you smiled at the gesture.

“I also need something in my system right now,” he sighed, sliding you the chopsticks. “I must say that I didn’t expect you to be this calm about it.”

You wondered if you could tell him that there were a number of scenarios you were more scared about, and most of them included your mother. “I’ve seen worse. Not guns,” you corrected when he raised his eyebrows at you. “But… yeah, nevermind. I guess I’m good at keeping my cool.”

“You must be, Miss…”

You told him your name and he nodded along, taking a bite of his ramen. You watched him curiously. “Is this your first time being chased like this?”

“Not really, no,” he replied. “Sadly, I’m kind of used to this now.”

“That’s a shame,” you took a bite, thinking. “I mean… what if something happens to you? Because you could have died- we could have died tonight. So if you die now, won't you have any regrets?”

He gave you a curious look and you memorised his face- he was very handsome, you noticed. You couldn’t stop staring at him and you were wondering if it was because you wanted to recall where you had seen him or because he simply was too handsome to not look at. He took a deep breath. “I would like to finish this case before I die. It’s more complicated than I thought and if I don’t get to the end of it, I’m afraid no one will.”

“That’s a work-related regret,” you pointed out in disappointment.

“What about you?”

“Well, I also have unfinished business, quite literally,” you laughed. “I’m opening a floral cafe with my friend. I’ve been dreaming about it for like, a decade. I’d like to serve at least one customer before I die.”

“Isn’t that a work-related regret as well?”

“It’s my dream too, but I suppose you’re right,” you grinned and he joined despite himself, waiting for your answer. “I’d like to explore a bit. Live a little.”

Seonghwa could resonate with that. “I think I’d like to live a little too.”

You nodded, finishing the food. “Thank you so much for this- you really didn’t have to.”

“Consider it my apology for involving you,” he said. “Can I have your contact number? I might have to call you for a witness statement, if you’re alright with that.”

“Sure,” you took out his card and texted him on the number. “I don’t think I’ll have much to say though.”

“That’s okay, it’s just for paperwork,” he assured you and you got up, telling him you’d take a cab back home. You watched him leave first and then you slumped down on the chair as you wondered if those familiar sharp eyes were the ones you’ve been dreaming about for almost half your life.

What would that mean for you?

—------------------------

Flowers often wilted under your touch, and though your mother called it ‘wrong’, it somehow felt right.

That didn’t mean you felt excited about it. You were the goddess of spring. You were supposed to give life to flowers, not kill them.

You sat by the stream, digging your fingers under the soil. You laughed to yourself as you scanned the dead flowers around you, and you wondered what Lord Hades would think about this, because it seemed like the flowers were-

“Straight from the Underworld,” a voice sounded and you froze for a moment before you turned towards the dark figure of Hades announcing his arrival. You tried to look at his face- you could almost see it now…

“Interesting that they call you Persephone,” the King of the Underworld slid closer and then was down on one knee before you. “Why did you call me here?”

“I- I didn’t call you,” you managed to say, wanting to scoot away from him but you were captivated. “How?”

He smiled, glancing at your fingers still buried under the soil. Gently, he held your wrists and took them out, dusting your hands carefully. You tried taking your hands away. “I could hurt you.”

“No, you won’t,” he said nonchalantly before looking at you. “Have you ever hurt someone?”

“I think I have,” you found yourself saying.

“And why would a sweet thing like you hurt someone?” He took one of the wilted flowers and tucked it behind your ear. “They probably deserved it, didn’t they?”

You were about to say something but he got up. “Go back before Demeter comes to find you. I’m not sure she’ll like this.”

“But…” you sighed, an indescribable ache in your heart. “I don’t know what to do. I feel helpless.”

“You’re not alone,” he simply said. “And if you ever feel lost, you can call for me.”

—-------------------

This wasn’t the first time you had that dream, however, this was the first time the voice sounded so familiar.

As you got ready, pairing accessories with your pastel blue outfit, you wondered if you were closer to discovering the identity of the person you were dreaming about for so long.

Yes, it was probably a fictional story your mind had created for the sole purpose of your entertainment, where you were playing Persephone and your mother was playing Demeter. When you first started having these dreams a few years ago, though not as frequently as nowadays, you let the story play in your head until one day something occurred to you which prompted you to google the story of Persephone and Hades-

And left you gaping in surprise because it really did seem like you were legitimately seeing it from Persephone’s eyes.

You never mentioned it to anyone. You weren’t so sure you needed to- after all, there were various interpretations of the stories of the Greek gods. However, the character of Hades intrigued you a lot, and it was a shame you could never remember just who he was. Also, it didn’t help that your mother had been calling you Kore forever- she had been obsessed with Greek mythologies when you were little and read those to you as your bedtime stories.

Perhaps these dreams were a result of hearing those dreams as a child, a trauma-

“If you’re done staring at yourself, the breakfast’s getting cold,” Siyeon popped her head in your room, snickering. “It’s only Wooyoung. Who are you getting pretty for?”

You glared at her. “Rich coming from you when we all know how big a crush you harbour-”

“Shut up and be at the table in a minute if you want me to drop you off.”

“Alright, madame,” you made a face and sighed, your mind wandering off to the familiar voice of Hades-

Your phone vibrated and you read the text from Prosecutor Park Seonghwa asking you if you were available to meet at the police station in an hour. You texted that you were and told Wooyoung that you were going to be a bit late before joining Siyeon at the table.

“Wooyoung told me you might have found a place for your cafe?” Siyeon asked and you nodded.

“We’re reviewing our options today and I hope we can finalise something,” you took a sip of coffee, sighing as you slumped back. “It’s about time we actually started running the business instead of just dreaming about it.”

“Right,” Siyeon nodded. “Your mother called me last night. Apparently you weren’t picking up?”

“Oh, I forgot to call her back,” you groaned. “What did she say?”

“Just the usual,” she grinned. “Tell y/n to stay safe, pick up her calls, stop roaming around so late at night- I don’t know how she’s gonna digest the idea of you and Wooyoung working together with actual people around you until midnight.”

“Yeah, I told her to be mentally prepared. I don’t know when she’ll understand I’m not a kid…” you sighed deeply. “Though after last night, I can kind of understand why she’s like this…”

“What happened last night?” Siyeon frowned.

You told her your story on the way to the police station where she was to drop you off. She was surprised but also momentarily got possessed by your mother as she scolded you for roaming around strange places all alone so late at night. When you arrived, the prosecutor was already waiting for you and Siyeon did a double take.

“That’s the Prosecutor that got you in trouble?”

You raised a brow. “You know him?”

Siyeon scoffed, getting out of the car and haughtily walking towards the prosecutor who looked at her and then at you, and then groaned.

“I can’t believe you almost killed my friend, Park Seonghwa.”

You gaped between the two, and he sighed deeply. “That’s an exaggeration, but good to see you too.”

“This is the Prosecutor who made my life at work hell a year ago,” she pointed and you nodded in realisation, stifling your smile- you had only heard bad things about him.

“But we became friends over a few drinks, didn’t we, Siyeon? Or are you going to forget how I helped you out and saved your sorry ass?”

“I’m sure he was just doing his job,” you patted Siyeon’s arm. “You should go now- stop giving him that look.”

Siyeon glared at Seonghwa before saying bye and you gave the man a sorry look. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long, Prosecutor Park.”

“Just call me Seonghwa. I’m sorry I had to call you. I would have dealt with it, but…” he sighed. “The police here don’t really like me.”

You looked at him in confusion and he led you inside. The officer in charge of the case made you both wait 10 minutes just because he was going through his phone (judging by the smile on his face, you were pretty sure he was talking to his partner), and though you both had stayed silent while you waited, you decided to break the ice.

“Looks like you have some beef with him,” you commented.

“I don’t have beef with him,” Seonghwa laughed, caught off-guard by your comment and it made you stifle a grin. “We’ve just not had the chance to meet on good terms.”

“Same difference,” you muttered.

Before he could retort, the officer finally looked up from his phone and gave you two a tired look, fixing his gaze on Seonghwa. “Prosecutor Park… ever so busy, eh? Still going after the elites just because they seem to be having fun? Still called the Underworld’s Grim Reaper?”

You blinked at the nickname and then it dawned on you why his voice sounded so familiar-

It was the same voice you had been hearing in your dreams.

“Officer Lee… I see you haven’t changed. I thought you got promoted after you rattled on about me to the superiors, but… too bad.”

The officer gruntled at that and you pursed your lips, looking back and forth between the two. Before they could make another jab, you cleared your throat and raised your hand awkwardly. “I’m here.”

Officer Lee passed you a page. “Fill this up and then answer my questions.”

You filled the page with your private information and then the officer asked you to narrate the events. By the end of it, he was tsk-ing at Seonghwa. “Now you’re troubling innocent civilians too. Do you have to go so far? Don’t you remember the last time you got a civilian involved-”

“You don’t have to worry about her inconvenience,” Seonghwa countered. “She’s a… friend.”

You raised a brow at that but decided to play along- it looked like the officer really wanted to get to him and you wondered just what had happened between the two.

“Well, you’re free to go then,” he said after he asked you to narrate the event and you got up, bowing and waiting for Seonghwa who was still glaring at the man and then he exhaled deeply, getting up and going ahead without waiting for you. You followed him outside, watching him stop and run a hand through his hair, almost in frustration.

“You okay?” You asked cautiously.

“Yeah. I’m good,” he nodded after a moment, scanning you- you suddenly felt like a child out of place in your pastel outfit. “Do you need me to drop you off?”

“No, it’s okay, I’m meeting a friend at the intersection,” you told him. “I’ll walk.”

“I’m passing by, so get in,” he motioned to the car and went ahead before you could refuse his offer, making you shrug and follow.

“Sorry for today,” Seonghwa said after a minute as he drove. “I won’t bother you again.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t mind,” you told him.

“I’m sorry for that day too,” he continued. “I could have gotten you killed, like Siyeon said.”

“It’s okay, it was just a big coincidence,” you shrugged and he glanced at you. “I’m just glad we’re both unhurt.”

Seonghwa raised a brow at your candidness. “Have you always lived in Sector 1?”

“I lived near the Sector 2 border- the town with the hills,” you told him. “I commuted for college and moved here not too long ago.”

“Is that where you met Siyeon too?”

“No, we’re school friends,” you smiled. “She also lived there back then.”

“Ah, I see.” A ghost of a smile lingered at Seonghwa’s face and you watched him, intrigued. “I don’t think Siyeon ever mentioned you but… we weren’t best friends either.”

“Siyeon never mentioned you either, I think- not directly. She did mention some jerk making it hard at work, but,” you laughed and he joined. “That’s about it.”

You spotted the intersection and told him to drop you off there. He offered to wait with you until your friend arrived, but you insisted that it was fine. Seonghwa did look at you a moment too long before he sighed. “I guess this is goodbye then. We probably won’t be seeing each other again.”

You scanned him, his sharp eyes just as familiar as his voice. You wondered if the ache in your heart meant anything. “Let’s hope if we do meet each other again, it’s when we’re not running for our lives or going to a police station.”

Seonghwa smiled at that and you watched his face transform into pure warmth, his eyes sparkling. “Sounds good.”

You watched him leave, wondering just what his deal was. He seemed to be dealing with a lot and you made a mental note to ask Siyeon just what exactly the officer meant by him being the Underworld’s Grim Reaper. At the sound of a horn, you turned to Wooyoung sticking out his neck and waving at you and you immediately got in the front seat.

“Did I keep you for long?” He patted your arm as a greeting before he drove off.

“Not at all,” you told him. “I hope you’re in full spirits because we’ve had enough of scouring potential buildings for our cafe. We need to decide today, Wooyoung. Don’t be a sloth.”

“Okay, okay,” he nodded his head furiously, his dark hair falling over his forehead. “I have a feeling that today is a lucky day.”

Today was indeed lucky. By the late evening, you went through your top 5 picks and decided on a spot to open your cafe- it wasn’t in the hotspot of the city but quite near it, and you were very satisfied by its architectural design which allowed you to make the most of the ‘floral’ part of the cafe. Wooyoung had no problem with it either, so you signed the deal and shook hands with him.

“I can’t believe we managed to do this today- I thought we were bluffing!”

“When I put my mind to something, I do it, y/n,” he simply stated. “Now let’s go for dinner- I’ll call the boys and you can call Siyeon- I hope some of them can make it. I need to introduce you to my other friends too.”

“Yeah, you know how hard it was for me to come back here when college was over,” you sighed. “And your ‘other friends’ are always too busy.”

“We should plan a proper party, though, what do you say?” Wooyoung asked. “We’ll treat them and then force them to help us.”

“That… sounds pretty good actually,” you grinned at him and he grinned back, bumping his fist with you as you both plotted the demise of your friends and how to exploit their services.

With that, you and Wooyoung arranged a welcome party at a restaurant near your cafe on the weekend so you could have dinner first and visit the venue later. You invited Siyeon, which you started regretting when she decided she was in charge of dressing you up for the night, and you ended up in all black, with your hair and makeup more edgier than usual- she insisted you needed to look like you had your shit together and could tolerate doing business with Wooyoung which was no small feat. She still couldn’t believe how Wooyoung, who was the loudest and most blunt and outgoing person she knew, could be friends with you who was timid and always fidgeting with her words.

“But you can shut Wooyoung up, so I guess that counts for something.”

“I can shut you up too,” you countered. Siyeon snickered at that but didn’t deny it- you may have grown up sheltered and were just learning about real life and its responsibilities now, but Siyeon knew there was an undeniable fire within you.

“But I don’t blab as much as him,” Siyeon pouted.

“Gosh, just tell Wooyoung that you like him, you’re so corny,” you threw your makeup sponge at her as she turned to hide her face after making that comment.

“I don’t like him,” she looked baffled. “He’s too much.”

However, as you entered the restaurant, you watched how Siyeon’s eyes darted immediately to Wooyoung and you rolled your eyes, greeting the rest of his friends- Yunho, Mingi and someone you hadn’t seen before. Yunho and Mingi you knew from college and met with them often.

“This is the famous Kim Hongjoong who is very hard to reach,” Wooyoung pointed and Hongjoong laughed in embarrassment. “You two better get along. We’re still missing one, but he’ll be here soon- he said we could start dinner without him.”

“Oh, we could wait?” You asked but Wooyoung told you it was okay, and you sat across Hongjoong, learning that he was a famous composer and Wooyoung told you that he was producing a soundtrack for your cafe as a gift too, which you really appreciated.

“Once I see what the vibe is, I’ll come up with something,” Hongjoong promised.

“No way, aren’t you asking too much from him, Wooyoung?” You looked around in disbelief and everyone laughed.

“It’s the least I can do-”

“It’s the least he can do,” Wooyoung announced and you laughed harder, Hongjoong promising to mess up the track if Wooyoung annoyed him too much and you enjoyed the bickering as you finished dinner and you all decided to walk to the cafe. You fell behind the group, watching them laugh over something and you smiled to yourself, glad you had such good people in your life-

You turned to your right and spotted none other than Seonghwa, dressed in a suit, probably coming straight from work, holding a big wrapped box. You met eyes with him and he stopped in his tracks when he saw you with the rest of his friends.

While you both stood gaping at each other, you suddenly had a flashback of the recent dream you had-

“I wish you weren’t so afraid, Persephone,” Hades crawled behind you, letting his fingers run down your sleeves and catch your trembling fingers- somehow, his touch comforted you more than anything else in this world.

“I just don’t understand what I’m supposed to do,” your voice wasn’t even and you looked down, watching his fingers interlock with yours as he rested his face next to your head. “I’m supposed to be the goddess of spring but all I seem to do these days is destroy.”

“And who said you were only the goddess of spring?” Hades' voice held a hint of playfulness. “You can be more than one thing.”

“Could I?” You smiled, embarrassed, moving away from him. Perhaps, he was trying to make you feel better. “I’m not even good at one thing.”

“You think we’re good at what we do?” Hades went to sit by the tree in front of you. “I can barely handle the Underworld these days.”

You sat near him, gazing at him out of curiosity. “What is the Underworld like?”

“Would you like to see?” Hades leaned in and for a moment, just for the shortest moment, your heart was gripped by the fear of your mother finding out who you’ve been hanging out with lately.

“I don’t think I should leave the mortal realm,” you pouted. “Mother would instantly know I’m gone.”

“You don’t have to leave to see it,” Hades was smirking. “I can show you- close your eyes.”

You did and you felt his fingers on your forehead- and then you were suddenly shivering with cold, couldn’t see anything except darkness- until you realised you could actually see and it was just incredibly dark.

“This is the Underworld,” Hades said. “Where I live. A city down there. We have rivers too, but I’m not sure you’d like them.”

“How can I see this?”

“This is just my memory,” Hades said, drawing his fingers away and you opened your eyes, blinking a couple of times.

“It’s so cold there,” you tilted your head, grabbing his hand without a second thought. “You’re always cold.”

Hades frowned- could you actually feel the place from his memory alone? “I’ve clearly underestimated your powers, it seems.”

“I know just what that place needs,” you smiled, ignoring his remark- you tended to ignore anyone who talked about your powers. You watched Hades’ brow rise in confusion.

“It needs a touch of spring.”

Wooyoung all but attacked Seonghwa with a hug that had him grimacing, going on about how he made it just on time but it was a pity that he had to miss dinner. When Wooyoung was about to introduce you two, you looked at Siyeon who muttered, “What a big fucking coincidence.”

You giggled at that, and Wooyoung looked between you and Siyeon. “Why does it look like you already know him?”

“That’s because she does, you idiot,” Siyeon slapped Wooyoung’s arm. “You should have told me he was coming. You know I have beef with him.”

“And that’s exactly why I didn’t,” Wooyoung looked proud and Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “I’m aware Siyeon and Seonghwa know each other from work, but how do you know him?”

“Uh… it’s a long story,” you shrugged, looking at Seonghwa for help.

“She was a witness in a case I’m working,” was Seonghwa’s short explanation and you nodded eagerly, hoping he wouldn’t ask more. Wooyoung didn’t, just dragged Seonghwa to the front and he greeted the rest.

“They’re old friends, huh?” You let out a short laugh, looking at Siyeon who looked both annoyed and curious. “Sure is a small world we live in.”

You reached the cafe and Wooyoung called you to the front, putting an arm around you. “This is us.”

“You sound like a married couple who just bought a house,” Mingi laughed.

“Might as well be,” Wooyoung scoffed. “Come in, let’s show you around.”

Wooyoung did most of the talking while you added in the details, showing them the main sitting area and a few private corners for people who would want to work in peace while having a break. The kitchen was huge and well-equipped as well, and upstairs, there was a terrace that you would be utilising for the customers as well, with two separate rooms that would be your offices.

“We really won in the luck department with this one,” you finished showing them around, taking a seat with the rest on the terrace where Wooyoung opened the bottle of wine Seonghwa had brought as a gift. “I never thought I’d have a room here as well. I could practically live here.”

“That wouldn’t be very safe,” Seonghwa said.

“I know, but on the days when I’m too tired to go home, I could take a little nap here,” you shrugged.

“Now that we’re all present and I’m pouring you all wine to commence the beginning,” Wooyoung finally began the speech you were expecting and you stifled your laugh. “I better see each one of your ass working with us.”

Hongjoong stopped in the middle of drinking. “Working how exactly?”

“Help us move!” Wooyoung slumped down. “Help us bring this place to life! With only the two of us, it’s going to take forever, especially with y/n’s clumsy ass-”

“I’m not the one who fell on her face because I was too busy looking upwards when I walked,” you muttered, referring to moments ago when Wooyoung tripped on empty boxes while he was walking, making everyone laugh out loud.

“Not the point!” Wooyoung glared at you and you glared back. “Anyways, all of you better be present here.”

“You’re only going to order us around and do absolutely nothing!” Mingi pointed his finger at him. “I still remember when I thought it was a good idea to move in with you.”

“I could help, but I expect something in return,” Yunho said and Siyeon clapped at that.

“My point exactly.”

“You owe me one in case you forgot, Yunho,” Wooyoung pointed his finger at him and Yunho grinned. “As for Siyeon… she could get a special discount.”

That fueled an argument on why he didn’t offer the ‘special’ discount to anyone else and Siyeon announced she didn’t need anything from Wooyoung, which made you elbow her.

“We’re all busy and have a life, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa finally said and the boys clapped enthusiastically at that. “But… I’ll come around if I have some free time. And the rest of you should as well- otherwise don’t expect them to treat you any differently from the rest of their customers.”

You both were satisfied to hear that while the rest groaned, making promises to come and help, teasing each other. You opened a bag of chips and offered some to Seonghwa who was sitting near you.

“Funny seeing you here tonight,” he said as he took a few. “I didn’t recognise you for a moment. You look different.”

“That’s all Siyeon,” you touched your hair consciously, tucking behind your ears. “I thought you were just passing by. Seems like we have quite a few people in common.”

“Seems so,” he smiled. “Wooyoung always talks about you, I just never made the connection.”

“Really?” you laughed, looking at him who was still accusing his friends of being lazy. “He does talk a lot in general. He may have mentioned having a busy old friend- two of them. I met Hongjoong for the first time today.”

“He’s my oldest friend,” Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong and you watched his gaze turn soft. “He’s also the busiest, so don’t expect to see him helping around more than once. He uses any free time for a nap.”

“I see,” you turned towards Seonghwa, resting your face on your hand, elbow propped on your leg. “And will I be seeing you more than once?”

Seonghwa’s breath caught at the way you looked, with hair shining brightly under the moonlight, eyes tired but full of life. He mirrored your position, a faint smirk on his face. “Maybe you will.”

That night, Seonghwa woke up feeling like a bucket of cold water had been splashed over him though sweat laced his forehead. He checked the time- it was 03.47 am. He went to the kitchen to drink some water and recalled the dream he had seen-

It was you. He had dreamt about you, but… it wasn’t exactly the person he knew. And he had called you Persephone. You had been sitting by a lake, eyes wide and helpless, and he had touched your face and said-

“If I could… I would make you the Queen of the Underworld.”

Seonghwa sighed deeply- was he thinking too much about you? He had been busy with his work, and recently, he’d seen a lot of you, which was perhaps why he was having recurring dreams about you where he called you Persephone, which made him Hades-

King of the Underworld.

Or maybe he took his nickname way too seriously. Seonghwa shook his head- the dreams were causing him to be restless in his sleep. Maybe he just needed to relax a bit but… his recent case had him spiralling into darker territories, and he wondered if he could even get to sleep anymore.

—--------------------------

The last few days were the busiest. You spent most of your time in the cafe and the boys occasionally dropped by to help you out, though you noticed having company meant you also slacked off as you got distracted elsewhere, but things were looking good so far. You and Wooyoung were done setting up your office rooms so you could focus on the rest.

Today, you were back to the last bit of scraping. You arrived late, having slept in since it was Sunday and you found Wooyoung taking a nap on the couch in his office. You didn’t wake him up, deciding to put on some light instrumental music while you scraped and got lost in your thoughts.

These days, your thoughts mostly drifted to the recurring dreams you were having- they were almost like flashbacks of a memory, of a… past life. But you didn’t believe in past lives.

Maybe you should, you wondered to yourself as you shifted to one leg, lazily scraping. But even if you did believe in past lives, did you believe in Hades and Persephone? Even if you did, why would they look exactly like you, Seonghwa and the other people in your life? Why would they be speaking your language?

Maybe they speak your language for you, you found yourself thinking. You recalled having a dream in Japanese a while ago when you barely knew two phrases. Dreams were supposed to be weird, you told yourself. But were they supposed to be playing out like a story of someone’s life?

Your train of thought was broken when you heard someone clear their throat behind you and you realised you hadn’t been scraping at all for a while now. You put on a smile in an attempt to seem normal before turning to greet-

Seonghwa. He had a way of appearing exactly when you were thinking of him.

“Hi,” he waved awkwardly, dressed in something other than black for once. The denim quite suited him.

“H-hi, I wasn’t expecting you- or anyone, for that matter,” you managed to say, recovering from the initial shock. “Uh, please have a seat?”

Seonghwa looked around in amusement at the absence of any seats. “Where’s Wooyoung?”

“He’s taking a nap,” you told him, fumbling to empty the nearest stool. “I just came and decided to let him sleep.”

“Good idea, it would be way too loud with him,” he laughed, asking you to stop. “I’m not here to relax. I’m here to help you out, so tell me what to do.”

“Really?” You smiled, suddenly conscious of the dirty apron you were wearing- it had everything from dust to paint on there. “Well… you could scrape this part and I could start on the next?”

“Sounds good,” he scanned you. “Do I get an apron too?”

“Oh, yes,” you said, laughing. “We have a spare for this purpose.”

You went to the box near you, digging out the apron and handing it to him. He wore it and got to work immediately and you watched him for a moment before resuming your own. “You didn’t actually need to help out- I’ve heard how busy you are with your recent case, and from what I’ve seen… it’s hectic.”

“Come on, even Hongjoong stopped by,” he laughed a bit, looking at you. “Or is it that you didn’t want to see me?”

“Now why would you think that,” you pouted, surprised at how playful he sounded despite the serious expression on his face. “I just thought you’d be tired- your job is demanding.”

“It wasn’t always like this,” Seonghwa glanced at you as he said, “I got myself into this mess, and now I can’t get out until I win or admit defeat.”

You put a hand on your hip as you scraped. “Admitting defeat sounds dangerous.”

“It is,” he sighed. “I’m not ready to give up yet.”

You turned to him but then paused, resuming your work- it seemed to be easier to talk when you were both busy and not looking at each other. “Just what have you involved yourself in, Seonghwa? I don’t think we’ve addressed the fact that you’re in constant danger.”

Seonghwa sighed deeply and it looked like he was actually considering telling you. “I can’t really talk about it- the less you know, the safer you are.”

“Well, maybe I don’t love being so safe,” you said, surprised at how you voiced that so boldly, making even Seonghwa stop and turn to look at you. You matched his gaze.

“Sometimes I wonder who you are,” he said, and you felt like he meant more by it. “Why were you so calm that day? And why are you willing to involve yourself in something dangerous?”

You shrugged, going back to scraping, ignoring the loud thump of your heart between your ears. You could still feel his gaze on your back. Thankfully, Wooyoung interrupted and you got a call right at that moment, going into another room to talk to your mother who told you she would be paying a visit-

Right now.

You got out of the room, waving your hand wildly at Wooyoung who moved closer to hear your conversation while Seonghwa watched awkwardly.

“But mom… I’m literally scraping- it’s an ugly sight. You should just go to my apartment and I’ll arrive right after you-”

“I’m near the cafe, Kore,” she said and Wooyoung sagged down to the ground. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” you hung up and kicked Wooyoung’s thigh lightly. “Get up. We’ve got to make this look presentable.”

“Your mother’s coming, what’s the big deal?” Seonghwa finally dared to ask and then regretted it when you two glared at him.

“She’s a monster, for starters-”

“She’s my mother, asshole,” you slapped Wooyoung’s arm. “And what’s your problem? She loves you!”

“She only pretends to!” Wooyoung shouted. “She threatened to hang me upside down on the ceiling if I tried anything funny with you!”

“Let’s just get to work,” you clapped, sliding all the stuff lying in the middle of the room to the corners. Just two minutes later, you heard the sound of the door opening.

“Seonghwa’s still here,” Wooyoung pointed out. “Should I say he is my friend?”

“He is your friend, Wooyoung, please wake up,” you almost cried and Seonghwa snorted. “If you’re going to say something stupid, you better just shut up- hi, mom!” You went to hug her, Wooyoung following with a smile.

“You look well,” she commented. “But there are dark circles under your eyes.”

“Those are proof that I’ve been working hard,” you smiled and she laughed at that, handing you the bouquet of fresh flowers that she brought from home- your favourites. You sniffed them deeply, sighing happily before setting them on the table.

“And this is?”

“My old friend, Park Seonghwa,” Wooyoung introduced and Seonghwa bowed. “He came to help us out.”

Your mother gave you a look before she sat down. “I won’t be here for long- I came to visit a friend and thought I’d drop by and see what’s up. Would you excuse us, boys? It’s good to see you, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung saluted, dragging Seonghwa to another room- or at least, pretending to. You just knew he would be loitering right outside the room, and chances were that Seonghwa would be too. You turned your attention to your mother. “You could have told me earlier. I would have arranged for dinner or something-”

“There’s no need,” she shook her head, looking around. “The cafe looks nice. Are you sure you need to stay and work with Wooyoung? You’ll only be dealing with flowers- you could do that from home-”

“Wooyoung is only going to be cooking, I’ll be handling everything else,” you reminded her. “We cannot work without each other.”

“It’s pretty late though- when do you even go back?” She checked her watch. “Here, all alone-”

“I’m going to be alone most days,” you straightened up- somehow, you found it easier to challenge your mother when you met her after some time apart. “Besides, there’s always company.”

She frowned at that. “Do you know that boy?”

“Wooyoung introduced us not long ago. He’s one of his old friends, like Yunho and Mingi.”

“I don’t like this, Kore,” she sighed and you groaned.

“You never like anything I do,” you said. “I’m not little anymore. I’m making my own decisions. Please give me space to breathe.”

“Do I suffocate you?” She raised a brow.

“Honestly? Sometimes, yes. I love you but you do that.”

Your mother didn’t look too hurt to hear that, which didn’t give you much satisfaction either. She got up, taking her purse. “I’ll be back when you finally open the cafe.”

“Sure, you have to make it to the opening. And please arrange for the flowers- I’ll send you a list soon, okay?”

She patted your cheek and left, and you finally felt yourself relax. You heard the sound of footsteps. “Damn. That was intense.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, looking at Seonghwa who told you that you looked pale and before you could protest, he poured you water and slid the glass.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked and you nodded, glancing at Wooyoung who was peeking out of the window to make sure your mother was actually gone. “Why did she call you Kore?”

“It’s a nickname- she started calling me that when I was little. It’s something to do with Greek mythology-”

“I’ve heard,” Seonghwa nodded, accidentally brushing your hand as he took the glass from you and said, “Persephone.”

A stabbing pain in your head made you wince. “Sorry, what?”

“That’s what Demeter called her daughter, right?” he said and you nodded absently.

“Have you always known that?”

“What?”

“That Demeter called Persephone Kore?” You asked, your voice small.

“Does it matter?” He asked and you thought that was a weird answer. Before you could probe, he went to Wooyoung, leaving you wondering why he didn’t simply answer that.

—--------------------

A few days later, Seonghwa found himself standing outside your cafe in the middle of the night.

There were a number of things that brought him here. The illegal drugs case he was investigating had taken a dangerous turn since the past few months, which meant he was being assaulted and blackmailed. His place had been ransacked, evidence stolen, and he found himself growing anxious with every passing day. But then, it involved the top class of Sector 1 notoriously known as the Underworld, and if he exposed the individuals involved, he was positive the citizens of Wonderland would lose trust in their government and officials.

He had told no one yet, and he wasn’t planning to, but now he was wondering if he could go on like this. He was being backed up by Mr. Ahn, the director of a leading pharmaceutical company, but he wasn’t sure he could trust him with the details- at least not fully. But he was powerful, and he had connections, which was how he had gotten so far and earned his nickname- Underworld’s Grim Reaper.

He didn’t know how long he had been staring at the terrace until you appeared and noticed him, waving at him and motioning him to come inside. He sighed deeply- there was another reason he was here.

He now knew why you seemed so familiar, why your voice shook him to the core the first time he heard you.

He had seen you in his dreams before he ever saw you.

He was positive about that- it sounded insane even to himself, but he was so sure, and it made absolutely no sense. But then he saw your mother the other day- he recognised her instantly from his dreams since she had a memorable face. And then, to top it off, she called you Kore.

There was no way, he had thought at that time, but then… he wondered if somehow, you knew as well.

But he couldn’t ask you that, he thought as he went upstairs after looking around for Wooyoung. He couldn’t ask you like this. Not when it made no sense to him. Not when he wasn’t ready for the answer.

“Is Wooyoung not here?”

“He went home a while ago,” you said, sipping from your coffee cup. “What brings you here at this hour- not for helping around, right?”

Seonghwa pursed his lips, taking a seat. “It’s a long story.”

You smiled, “I have some extra brewed coffee anyway. I think it was meant for you.”

When he had finally gotten a bit of coffee in his system, Seonghwa sighed for what had to be the tenth time. You were fidgeting with nervousness and anticipation now- it looked like he was going to tell you something big. “Come on- you look like you’re about to announce your divorce or something.”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, slumping back. “There’s a lot weighing on my mind, and I can’t really tell anyone.”

“I’m a good listener, and an even good secret keeper,” you told him.

“I don’t doubt that,” he laughed. “It’s just… it might be dangerous to share it with someone.”

“Is it about your case?” You asked and he gave you a look.

“You’re quick. Yes, it’s about my case- the same one that got me here with you right now.”

“Well, then I have a question for you,” you leaned forward, loving the challenge he was giving you. “Do you believe in coincidences?”

“I didn’t,” he thought about it, wondering if every meeting with you was just a plain big series of coincidences. “But now I’m wondering if I was wrong.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences. I believe everything happens for a reason. We encountered each other that day, perhaps, because you were meant to sit here right now-”

“Perhaps because we were meant to be-” Seonghwa glanced at you and you raised a brow. “Meant to meet,” he corrected. “That’s what you mean, right?”

“It’s up to you,” you relaxed back. “I don’t want to force you.”

Seonghwa wondered if he could tell you that he found you easy to talk to- in the past few days, he had visited a good few times. He got to learn little things about you and found himself drawn to you. “I’m only hesitating because it’s dangerous to know more than you should. Otherwise, I really like you. I really like talking to you.”

You nodded. “You know that I’ve lived a sheltered life with an overbearing mother, but Seonghwa… I’ve seen my fair share of horrors. I’m not easily rattled, not anymore.”

Seonghwa let that sink in- he always wondered where you got that edge from. He wasn’t sure he could ask. “The case I’m investigating is actually a case involving the top class of Sector 1- politicians, high ranking officials, influencers, you name it. They’re illegally trading drugs among themselves. They buy anyone with power and money.”

“Go on,” you urged.

Seonghwa shifted in his seat. “I’m being backed by Mr. Ahn of KQ Pharmaceuticals. He’s providing me with manpower and connections, but… I’m afraid I’ll have to investigate him at one point too. I’m not sure who’s constantly threatening me- the people I’m investigating or the one who hired me, telling me to stay in my place.”

You whistled. “A double-edged sword?”

“Yeah,” he let out a nervous laugh. “So I’m wondering how I can keep track of my progress, where I can store evidence and important documents. My apartment’s been ransacked twice now. They also stole from me in broad daylight.”

“Hmm… No one would suspect you coming to the cafe to drink some coffee and meet your old friend, right?” You asked and Seonghwa shrugged. “You could use my office.”

“I… When I said that, I didn’t mean that you should give me a space-”

“No, think about it,” you ignored his protests. “Me and Wooyoung are already practically living here. I can give you the spare key to my office- you can come and go as you please and store whatever you need to. I won’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” He asked and you nodded. “Well, I guess that could work.”

“And I know it’s too late to say this, but you should have backed out of this case when you first had the thought,” you said and he laughed in defeat. “It’s dangerous to back out now, isn’t it?”

“Very,” he confirmed. “But I don’t want to back out now either.”

You smirked at that. “Too late. Anyways, I won’t tell anyone. You can trust me.”

“I know I can,” he found himself saying.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It’s something about your eyes.”

“It’s something about your eyes,” Hades tucked your hair behind. “I feel like I could trust you with my life.”

“But what if someone finds out because of me?” You looked down at your fingers, green with all the flower plucking Demeter had made you do as a punishment for being seen in public with Hades.

“Then I would know that it’s not your fault but mine,” Hades smiled sadly. “Because I got you involved.”

“What if someone finds out because of me?” You found yourself saying, feeling intense deja vu and you tried to gulp the feelings down.

However, Seonghwa had sucked his breath sharply as he heard that too. He watched you for a few moments before he said, “Then I would know that it’s not your fault but mine. Because I’m the one who got you involved.”

You accidentally dropped the pencil you had been fiddling with, leaning down to pick it up and gathering yourself in that moment. You cleared your throat. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Yeah…” Seonghwa shook his head, breaking the trance he was in. “I should go now- I’ll come by tomorrow with some stuff. Should I drop you off too?”

“There’s no need, I’ll get a taxi-”

“At this hour? I think not,” he poked your arm, urging you to move and you pouted as you picked your stuff. You told him the location- it was 10 minutes from the cafe. The ride was mostly silent as you both sorted your thoughts out. When you reached your apartment, you unbuckled the belt, halting when Seonghwa cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to thank you for everything. We just met recently, but… I’m glad I can trust you.”

You smiled. “Well then, we can work on that until you’re able to call me a friend.”

“You are,” Seonghwa laughed. “You know what I mean. Thank you, y/n. For everything.”

“It’s okay,” you nodded. “Just… stay safe, Seonghwa. It sounds dangerous and I really don’t like that you’re being chased around. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

It was a simple enough thing to say but it pulled at his heartstrings in the most unexpected way and he found himself tucking your hair behind your ear- he couldn’t help it- he had done that so many times in his dreams. However, he hadn’t expected you to basically stop breathing, and he realised his breath caught at the way you were looking at him too.

How were you so familiar yet so distant?

He patted your shoulder, nodding awkwardly. “I’ll try. Being safe, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you finally breathed. “Goodnight… Seonghwa.”

With that, you went upstairs to your apartment, glad Siyeon was sleeping because all you wanted to do was sink down in your bed and think of the way he had just tucked your hair-

Like he had done so a million times before.

Perhaps he had.

—--------------------

Seonghwa found himself coming to the cafe every other day, but he felt a bit guilty that he had to text you and ask the whereabouts of Wooyoung. He told himself that he was protecting his friend and that made him feel guilty because he might be putting you in danger, but you always assured him that it was okay.

It was an easy routine now- Wooyoung usually went home around 10 at night, which was when Seonghwa would drop by and sit in your office and do his work in silence. On the days when you were present, you would quietly come in and place some coffee and snacks on the desk. He didn’t hide anything from you but you didn’t want to intrude so you’d just leave and do something productive, finding it easier to get busy.

Tonight was one of those nights too. You had asked Wooyoung to take care of the other things while you did the painting, which was why he was out and about during the day, buying whatever you needed- you’d join him when it concerned you but since he was taking care of the kitchen, he was busier. You just needed to get the painting done so you could finally decorate and get the flower business started.

You began to think of the flowers back at home, of home, of your mother, of the house that almost felt like a prison and in several ways was, of the feelings of suffocation that still lingered-

You heard someone clear their throat and you looked up to see Seonghwa lingering in the doorway, passing you a tight-lipped smile and you looked down- you had been picking at your fingers- had he seen that? You got up and brushed your clothes.

“What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you had an extra marker,” Seonghwa said after a moment. “I couldn’t find it where you usually keep your stationery.”

“Ah, we must have run out- there might be one in the kitchen though, let me look for it.”

“It’s okay, I’ll look for it-”

“You’ll never be able to navigate through Wooyoung’s mess there,” you laughed and he grinned, finally relaxing. “I’ll be back.”

You went to the kitchen and after a few minutes, you were able to find a marker in one of the drawers. You went to your office and knocked at the already open door and Seonghwa urged you to come in. You noticed how he had pasted a few pictures and notes on your board, making a mind-map.

“Wow, that’s a lot,” you commented. “I hope it’s not so hard… what’s going on here?”

Seonghwa chuckled, pointing at the picture of a middle-aged man. “That’s Dr. Kwon of Wonderland Hospital Sector 1. That’s where the investigation began- apparently, Mr. Ahn got suspicious when Dr. Kwon stopped his business with KQ Pharmaceuticals, and Mr. Ahn wondered if he’s not buying from the best pharmaceutical company in Wonderland, who’s sponsoring him?”

“Ah, business rivalry at first, huh?” You said and he nodded. “So he started doing some digging?”

“Yeah, and he noticed that there was one specific drug that’s used for anaesthetic purposes that he wasn’t buying from any of the well-known companies. He has his ears everywhere, and he was quick to make a connection- that drug that the top class of Wonderland smokes, they call it ‘Mist’- it’s the same they’re using as anaesthesia in the hospital.”

“Oh,” you wowed, taking a moment to let that sink in. “That’s… intense.”

Seonghwa stifled his smile. “Now he just wants me to take down as many people involved as possible.”

“Why you?” You were curious.

“I’m called the Underworld’s Grim Reaper for a reason,” he smirked. “I won a big case a year ago too- probably caught Mr. Ahn’s attention.”

“It’s suspicious, though,” you went through his notes, looking at the pictures and frowning at a familiar face. “That he isn’t putting himself in the spotlight. Also, how is he involved?”

“You know him?” Seonghwa glanced at the picture you were holding. “That’s Mr. Jang, right?”

“From the Wonderland Art Museum, yes,” you confirmed. “He’s an acquaintance of my mother- we deliver flowers to him regularly. Is he involved in…”

“It seems so, but it’s only a suspicion right now,” Seonghwa sighed. “There’s no evidence of transactions- after all, the drug must cost something. I’m wondering if it’s not in the form of cash- which is why I’ll have to look into Mr. Jang’s paintings and who the real owners of those paintings are.”

You were still going through the pictures as you listened when you found a picture of a flower. “And what has this rare flower got to do with it?”

Seonghwa looked surprised. “You recognise this flower?”

“Of course I do. I’m a florist, Seonghwa,” you rolled your eyes.

“What do you know about this flower?”

“It’s one of the rarest flowers. It’s called the Middlemist Blue- wait,” you looked at the flower and then back at him. “This is the source of the drug?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa took the picture from you. “Where have you seen it?”

In my mother’s greenhouse.

“It’s very rare,” you attempted to sound normal but you were sure Seonghwa caught on. You sighed, taking a seat. “My mother found one a few years ago and since then, she’s been taking care of it and trying to reproduce it.”

“And was she successful?” Seonghwa dared to ask.

“Not that I’m aware of,” you shook your head, looking at him- for once, you felt scared. “Do you think she might be involved?”

“I can’t say- she isn’t the only one with that flower, though. There’s someone in Sector 8 who grows them too,” he said and you found yourself sighing in relief. “But… you understand that I’ll have to investigate her, right?”

You thought for a few moments- was this a big coincidence? Your mother did deliver flowers to Mr. Jang for display in his museum. What if she provided him with the Middlemist Blue as well? What if Mr. Jang really was involved in the Underworld’s drug dealing?

Seonghwa took a seat next to you, taking your hand in his and caressing it. “You don’t have to think of the worst, y/n. I don’t think a mother who loves her daughter so much would do something that could harm her. The world doesn’t know that the Middlemist Blue can be used as a drug- that could mean that your mother is unaware. After all, she’s a florist, not a pharmacist, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true,” you took a deep breath. “But… Can you do me a favour and let me find out? With you?”

“It’s too dangerous-”

“Please,” you put a hand on his. “If it involves my mother… you understand why I have to, right? I could also help you with Mr. Jang’s involvement. We could do this together.”

Seonghwa thought about it. “You’re not doing anything on your own, okay? Don’t pull a move and make everyone around you suspicious.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I also don’t want you to confront your mother until I’m sure she’s the one supplying whoever’s involved. She could simply be keeping a rare flower safe.”

“Yes, sir.”

Seonghwa chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear, making your smile change into surprise. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You understood what he meant. “I know you’ll keep me safe.”

There it was again- another conversation he was sure he’d had with you. He patted your cheek. “Let’s talk about this later, okay?”

You nodded, finding yourself unable to draw away from him, and perhaps the spirit of Persephone possessed you for a moment as you leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, making his eyes go wide in surprise. “Thank you for believing in me, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa scanned your face, wanting to kiss you back but it took everything in him to simply smile and stand up to leave. He needed to clear his head, but most of all-

He needed to figure out just why he had been dreaming about you, and why the events of his dreams were playing out in the present.

—----------------------

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Seonghwa muttered as he pulled his cap further down and you groaned inwardly, taking it off and ruffling his hair, making him stop in his tracks. “What are you doing?”

“You’re looking too suspicious, Seonghwa,” you shook your head. “The mask and glasses are enough. You’re not a celebrity.”

“Might as well be,” he countered, pulling your hand and bringing you to the side when a bike passed by. “You should have disguised yourself too. My plan was better.”

“Mine is better, you’ll see,” you smiled at him and he thought you glowed in the sun. “Just a couple interested in art. What’s suspicious about that?”

It was a very basic plan- you wanted to go and check out the Wonderland Art Museum and see just how much your mother was involved- you were going to introduce yourself to Mr. Jang and you were bringing your ‘boyfriend’ with you. Seonghwa agreed to it because you insisted that you needed to learn just what your mother’s role was before he began investigating her, and for another reason-

Because you wanted to go out with Seonghwa, though you’ll never admit it out loud.

Interestingly, Seonghwa didn’t suggest someone else take his place or you go alone- it wasn’t uncommon to go alone. He had a few things he wanted to learn about you too, and he planned to find out today.

You both paused at the entrance, spotting yourselves in the reflecting glass- your lavender outfit was quite a contrast with his all black. The guards checked your ids, scanned you and allowed you to go inside and when Seonghwa exhaled loudly, you smacked his arm.

“Not subtle at all, Mr. Park.”

“I’m only teasing you,” he rolled his eyes as he laughed. “You think I haven’t done this? Sneaked in and gotten into trouble? More times than I can count.”

You made an impressed face and made your way to the display section, blown by the magnificent art pieces and the florals surrounding them. “Mother really put her heart and soul into this. No wonder she thought I couldn’t take over this job when I suggested that. My initial plan did fail for a reason.”

“You can go ahead and look at the flowers or whatever,” Seonghwa looked down at your still linked hands. “I’ll hang around and… observe. I need to check who the owners of these paintings are.”

“I think it’s better if we stick together- and you can lead the way. I don’t think I need to take a closer look at the flowers,” you shifted your hands so you were holding his arm now. “Better?”

Seonghwa glanced at you, gulping before he nodded. He wondered why he was so damn nervous around you. This wasn’t his first date-

Was he thinking of this as a date?

He led the way and you went from one art piece to another, observing for a few minutes. One of the guides answered whatever questions Seonghwa had. When you were at the heart of the display, Seonghwa finally asked what he wanted to. “What was your life like back at home?”

He noticed you tense for the smallest moment and he may have dismissed it had he not noticed you do that whenever someone talked about home. “Nothing much. Boring, if I have to say, but I have to credit my mother for all I am today.”

“Even the dark parts?” Seonghwa teased.

“Especially those,” you grinned at him, glad he was keeping it light. “She’s the only family I have- my father was never in the picture. She did what she had to.” He didn’t probe further, nodding slowly and guiding you to the next part, wondering just why your relationship with your mother was rocky. You asked him about his family.

“We’re a small family, but we’re close,” you could see his eyes curve and you bet he was smiling under the mask. “But when I look at you… I think you found a family here. The way you are with Siyeon and Wooyoung… it’s endearing.”

“Old friends are like family,” you smiled, agreeing. Seonghwa motioned towards the guards stationed near the far end- it had to be the office. “Should we take a closer look?”

“No, the guards might recognise me if Mr. Jang is involved,” he said, leading you to the other corner and you continued admiring the art while he looked at the office. “Can I ask why you wanted to open a cafe as a florist?”

“Well,” you thought about it. “I’ve practically lived with flowers. It’s what I’m best at and what I’m most confident about, though I started hating it a little when I felt like I hadn’t explored my options much. But when Wooyoung suggested opening up a cafe because he loved cooking for others… I think that’s when I looked at it differently.”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you think people look when they receive food or flowers? There’s not only happy occasions, but they’re both meaningful. To be a part of someone’s life or routine… I liked the idea of that. So we decided to partner up- Wooyoung gives the food and I give the flowers. It may sound stupid but-”

“No, it doesn’t,” Seonghwa insisted. “I heard somewhere, that even the darkest of places can be brightened by flowers, and even the darkest of humans can be moved.”

You narrowed your eyes at Seonghwa. You had, of course, heard that in your dream. “Where did you hear that- oh, look at that.”

Seonghwa followed your eyes to Mr. Jang going to his office room, followed by who had to be his secretary. He was about to turn away reflexively but you tightened your grip on his arm instead. “We’re going to his office.”

“We are not-”

“My mom sent a wine bottle for him, and I am simply delivering it on her behalf,” you motioned to the bag you were wearing which contained the gift and he rolled his eyes. “You can stay back if you want to-”

“No, I’ll come with you,” he said, looking like he was in pain.

You considered that. “Won’t he recognise you?”

“I think if he’s involved, it might shake him a little, seeing me with you,” Seonghwa was almost smirking. “That is, if your mother is involved too.”

“Ah… so you’re going to use me as bait? Noted,” you said and began to move forward and he laughed, grabbing your hand and stopping you but you pretended to be sour about it and made it to the office, letting him grab your hand when you knocked.

The secretary opened the door. “What business do you have?”

“I’m here from Eden Florals,” you said, “on behalf of the owner. She’s an acquaintance of Mr. Jang- she sent a gift for him.”

The secretary asked you to wait a moment and then let you in. You took out the gift first and then handed it to Mr. Jang with a bow. “I’m y/n from Eden Florals.”

“Of course,” Mr. Jang got up and shook hands with you. “I remember seeing a picture of you at your greenhouse when I went for a visit. You’re all grown up now!”

You smiled shyly. “My mother sends her regards. I’ve actually been wanting to visit your museum for quite a while ever since I moved to the city, but couldn’t get the chance.”

“And it seems like you did,” Mr. Jang glanced at Seonghwa.

“Yep,” you squeezed his hand, urging him to take his mask off. “This is my boyfriend, Seonghwa. He’s a fan of your work.”

“Nice to meet you,” Seonghwa said and you watched as Mr. Jang paused for a moment before shaking his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I’m sure you have,” he commented before sitting down. “You’re quite busy these days, I’ve heard.”

You pretended to be surprised. “Do you know each other?”

“Oh, didn’t he tell you?” Mr. Jang laughed. “He’s a very famous prosecutor around here. We’re all a little wary around him even when we’re clean as a slate.”

“That must mean he’s good at his job,” you passed a warm smile to Seonghwa and took a moment to look around. You found nothing suspicious at the first glance. “Well, I must get going now- sorry for taking so much of your time.”

“Oh, it’s alright. I hope you visit again. Send my regards to your mother too,” he said and you bowed before leaving the office, deciding to just exit the museum as well.

“So?” Seonghwa asked when you finally got out. “What do you think?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s involved- he looked more surprised to see you,” you thought. “I’m not sure about my mother though- what do you think?”

“I’m not so sure either,” Seonghwa inhaled deeply. “But I know for sure that he’s aware of what’s going on in the Underworld, at least.”

“Well then,” you paused, spotting a barbeque restaurant and feeling your stomach growl at the thought of food. “Shall we think about it over some food? My treat for dragging you along.”

“Shouldn’t we just go back?”

“Come on,” you elbowed him. “You said you wanted to live a little, right?”

Seonghwa gave you a look but urged you to lead the way and you stifled your grin as you entered the restaurant and gave your orders.

“You remembered that I said that,” he said after you both relaxed.

“Of course I did,” you shrugged, “We have that in common.”

“Is there something you want to do then?” Seonghwa rested his face on his hands, elbow propped on the table, looking casually at you. “I can’t figure you out. Sometimes you’re trying to dissolve in the background and then sometimes… you pull a bold move like you just did in Mr. Jang’s office.”

Before you could answer, the food arrived and you took that moment to think. “I could say a few things about you too, Prosecutor Park Seonghwa,” you teased and he groaned in amusement. “You seem miles away sometimes but then… you’re right here.”

Seonghwa raised a brow. “Are you talking about how I space out sometimes? Because I’ve been doing a lot of that ever since I met you. You make me confused.”

“Oh? How?” You asked, taking a bite of the meat.

“I don’t know how to explain it without sounding like a madman so I’ll let you know some other time,” he promised and you made a face at that. “It’s also probably because you’re quite weird too-”

“I could say the same for you!” You laughed. “You talk to yourself when you’re working! I thought I was hearing things and then I thought you were on a call or something, but you were just arguing with yourself.”

Seonghwa hid his face. “I have to do that when I’m lost while I’m connecting the dots. And you! You stare into the space like you can actually see something! I passed by one time and thought you were possessed!”

You both had a good laugh over that. “We’re all strange in some ways,” you acknowledged. “Speaking of, did you find anything strange about the paintings?”

“Yeah, I’ve got someone on it,” he checked his phone. “I just need to check if Mr. Jang’s really the owner of those paintings that he claims are his, or if most of the owners are involved in this drug business. What are you going to do, though?”

“I think I should visit back home- when my mom is away. Ugh, I don’t know how I’ll work that part out, but I need her to be away if I want to confirm my suspicions.”

“You might be offended to hear this, but…” Seonghwa began and you urged him to continue. “Normally, someone would have refused to believe their mother was involved in something like this. Why are you entertaining the possibility, I’m wondering.”

You took a deep breath. “We’re not on the best terms, as you must have seen when she visited the cafe,” you looked at him and he nodded. “She’s… overprotective. Overbearing. And she wasn’t the best mother- she could have done a lot of things differently about parenting,” you let out a short laugh, sighing. “And anyways, the Middlemist Blue is very rare. I can pull out of this but I shouldn’t stop you from investigating.”

“I understand,” he looked a bit apologetic and you shook your hand in dismissal, pouring him a drink and changing the topic,asking him how he became friends with everyone you knew and how he got to where he was. After you were done eating, he took the bus with you which stopped near your cafe and decided to drop you off.

“You don’t need to, I can find my way,” you teased, the few drinks you had back there making you both more comfortable with each other, especially when you both had talked so much the whole day.

“You know my car is parked there, right?” He laughed and you pouted. “It was your idea of a ‘date’.”

“You liked it though,” you elbowed him and he grinned. “When should we plan our next date? Do you want to go somewhere else before we go to my town?”

“I didn’t realise I was coming with you there,” Seonghwa casually grabbed your arm and pulled you closer.

“Of course you are coming with me,” you glanced at him. “We have a nice view there. I’d really like to show you.”

“If you insist,” he scoffed, though he was pleased. “Is there anywhere you want to go then?”

“I asked you,” you poked his arm. “Come on. Spill.”

“Well… I think I’d really like to go to the beach. It’s been forever since I went.”

“That’s great. I haven’t gone in forever. We should all go together- I could ask Siyeon and Wooyoung-”

“We could all go together, but…” Seonghwa paused, turning to you. “I’d like it more if it was just the two of us.”

“Oh, really?” You were about to tease him but then it sank in. “Oh.”

Seonghwa smiled, taking your hand and walking the rest of the way to the cafe in silence while your heart thumped wildly. When you arrived, he turned to you once again.

“Thank you for today. It was fun and productive. I never thought it could be both.”

You shook your head. “Always thinking about work first. I still haven’t forgotten how you used me as bait-”

Seonghwa shut you up with a chaste kiss to your cheek, laughing when he noticed how surprised you were. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s- it’s okay, just took me by surprise,” you unconsciously touched where he had kissed you.

“Do you like it then? Should I do it again now that you’re-”

“Ah, you’re drunk,” you laughed, pushing him away when he tried to do it again. “Kiss me when your head is not in the clouds.”

Seonghwa pursed his lips, his gaze changing and you realised what you had said. “I think I might be drunk too. I should go back inside…”

“I’ll remember that for next time,” Seonghwa promised and you waved goodbye, heading inside and unable to stop smiling for a good few moments.

—----------------------

“It’s not how I imagined us to be,” you said, caressing his hair, his head resting on your lap. It looked like he had stars in his hair. “Everyone thinks you’re the villain- that you’ve brought me here by force. It wasn’t my intention to make you misunderstood-”

“It doesn’t matter, Persephone,” Hades sighed in pleasure. “As long as you’re with me and happy… it doesn’t matter what the world thinks of us.”

“But Hades,” you couldn’t shake off the feeling of impending doom. “Mother will do anything to get me back. She won’t settle for 6 months on Earth and 6 months in the Underworld deal. She might get your brothers on her side, and then-”

Hades pulled away, sitting in front of you. “Did you know what would happen if you ate those pomegranate seeds?” You nodded and he continued. “You chose to do this. Will you choose to be by my side when everyone thinks I manipulated you into doing so?”

“Of course I will. I’m doing it now,” you pointed out and Hades smiled. “You’re the first person who saw me for who I truly was, and accepted me. You made me the Queen of Underworld and offered me whatever I wanted. I want to be with you, Hades. I don’t want to go back to Earth.”

Hades tucked his finger under your chin to make you look at him as he said, “You’re also the Goddess of Spring. You brought life to the Underworld- look around,” he glanced at the once dead forest that now bloomed with flowers of all sorts, bloomed with life. “I never thought it could be warm here- warm here too,” he touched his heart. “And you’re also the first one to look past the monster everyone has made me to be.”

With that, he leaned forward and kissed you in such a gentle manner that you wondered how he still managed to stay alive all alone in the cold Underworld. You kissed him back with the promise that he would never have to feel cold again. Hades was surprised when you kissed him back, because for a moment he wondered if he had made a mistake, if he had been too hasty- but when you climbed in his lap to kiss him deeper and his arms wound around your waist, he knew that he had fallen for you ages ago.

You woke up with a groan, your muscles aching and you found that you had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room. You rubbed your eyes, hearing water run- Siyeon must be showering. With a sigh, you got up and decided to make breakfast, cracking eggs and frying them, turning the coffee machine on-

And pausing in the middle of flipping eggs when the memory of the dream came back. You poked your tongue in your cheek, resuming the frying and scoffing at the memory- Hades kissing Persephone.

Seonghwa kissing you.

You cursed under your breath- it felt too real. You could feel butterflies in your stomach- or maybe it was because you already had a thing for Seonghwa. You had to admit that you did, especially with the conversation a few nights ago when he had kissed you on the cheek and you had asked him to kiss you again when he was sober.

You had met Seonghwa after that, but he had been a bit busy so he only said hi or made small talk when he stopped by at your cafe, both of you waiting for the day your mom would leave town which would be the weekend, you found out thanks to Siyeon. You both were pretending that conversation didn’t happen and things were pretty normal, if you had to say-

“Gosh, you scared me. Why are you smiling like a fool?”

You snorted, setting the table and sitting across Siyeon. “Just had a silly dream.”

“I had one too,” Siyeon laughed. “I was running away from a giant chicken. I think I should stop eating too much chicken…”

“Do you believe in coincidences, though?” You wondered out loud. “Like… do you think we can foresee things in our dreams?”

Siyeon raised a brow at the sudden change of tone. “I think I read something about that once. That sometimes we can actually foresee things. It’s pretty rare though, and most of the time it’s our mind making up scenarios.”

“But like, what if you’ve been foreseeing things for a while?” You leaned forward.

“I don’t know,” Siyeon shrugged. “Are you?”

“Not really,” you shrugged back. “Just wondering.”

You wanted to tell her that you saw Seonghwa in your dreams so many times before you met him, but… would she believe it? Even if she did, she’d think you were crazy. You couldn’t blame her for that- anyone would think you were crazy.

“You look like you have been having trouble sleeping, though,” Siyeon commented.

“Yeah, I haven’t had good sleep in a while,” you rubbed your face. “I’m going to go change.”

Before Siyeon could ask more, you were off to your room. After getting ready, she dropped you at the furniture store where Wooyoung was already waiting for you. He had picked a few options and you both went through the designs, choosing round wooden tables and comfortable cushion chairs in light pink colour for the cafe- you were pleased by how it looked in your mind so far.

“I think Hongjoong’s idea of a vintage theme really stuck to me. This is going to look perfect,” you pointed at some old frames.

“Get anything you want- I’m ready to spoil you,” Wooyoung nodded. “Just remember the budget. We spared a lot since you’re painting yourself.”

“Yeah, I just need to get some paints now,” you put your hands in your coat pocket as Wooyoung filled the receipt. “Brown and white should be okay, huh?”

“Yeah,” he was done. “Let’s look at the curtains next?”

You spent the good part of the afternoon shopping as much as you both could, getting lunch in between and making a timeline of when you needed to get things done and started. Wooyoung was busy with his cooking classes but you were mostly free so you were going to paint. He said he would ask the boys to give you a hand but you declined, saying it was something you’d prefer to do by yourself and you would be calling them anyway when you would need to decorate and set the furniture.

You got a text from Seonghwa when Wooyoung was about to drop you back at the cafe.

Hi. Can you meet me at the intersection near the cafe? I’m passing by and need to hand you some documents- I’m meeting someone and I can’t risk taking them along.

If you’re not busy, that is.

If you’re busy, I’ll just hide them in my office.

You smiled at the texts and Wooyoung glanced at you. “Already have a boyfriend?”

“No, it’s not that,” you groaned. “Can you drop me off at the intersection instead?”

“Meeting someone?” Wooyoung teased after agreeing. “I gotta see who it is.”

“Gosh,” you knew Wooyoung wasn’t going to back out so you gave in. “It’s only Seonghwa. He needs to give me something.”

“Seonghwa?” Wooyoung scoffed. “When did you two become so close?”

You suddenly felt guilty for not telling Wooyoung and Siyeon anything about Seonghwa yet. “We’re not that close. He’s just using my office to hide a few important documents because his house got ransacked twice- the case he’s working on. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Wooyoung made an impressed face. “He’s trusting you with that?”

“You know I’m good at hiding things,” you teased and he laughed, recalling that one time you were fourteen and bought a phone and hid it from your mother for about a year until she found out and gave you hell for it.

He dropped you off with a promise that you’d give him more details and you waved goodbye, spotting Seonghwa at the far end near a shop. You went to him and he apologised for making you come out when you were busy.

“I was just heading back to the cafe- I was out running errands with Wooyoung,” you told him, taking the USB and putting it in the inside pocket of your coat. “I’m interested to hear why you think this could be stolen.”

“It’s crucial information… and I don’t want to be careless,” he looked around, running a hand through his hair and your stomach swooped when your mind decided to flash back that one scene from your dream where you were running a hand through his hair instead- “And I think I have a tail, which is why I didn’t stop by the cafe too much. I need to find out who it is this time.”

“Oh,” you pursed your lips. “I’ll hide it well then.”

“I’m sure you will,” he smiled, checking the time. “I’ve got to go. See you later?”

“See you,” you saluted, going backwards where you came from. You took two turns down the street when you felt eyes on you and you turned around, catching a shadow hide behind a pole- since it was getting dark, you couldn’t see well, but-

If Seonghwa had a tail, it was possible they were following you now.

Which meant there was no way in hell you could go back to the cafe.

You decided to go to the convenience store instead, taking another turn. You took out your phone and used the screen and the lights to see if anyone was actually following you or you were just being anxious-

There was someone. And he was close.

You unlocked your phone and texted Seonghwa: I have a tail and he’s following me rn. You called him next.

“Wooyoung! Did you see my text? I sent you the receipt of the furniture.”

“Uh, it’s Seonghwa-”

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed. “Can you just take a look and see if it’s the right one?”

“Is anyone following you right now?”

“Yep,” you attempted to sound cheerful because you were pretty sure whoever was behind you could hear you. You decided to stay where it was crowded, though. At least he wouldn’t attempt something in the middle of a crowd, right?

“Oh goodness. Where are you?”

“Dinner? I think I’ll just have ramen at the convenience store.”

“Got it. Stay safe- don’t run. Stay around people, okay? I’m coming.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” you said. “Aren’t you busy?”

“Stay on call, okay?” Seonghwa said and you could hear his breath sound like he was running. He had to be on foot now- you glanced around casually, noticing the man behind you properly now- he was wearing a face mask and a cap.

Someone was starting to suspect you, it seemed. They couldn’t see you with Seonghwa.

“I don’t want to be seen with you, Wooyoung,” you almost scolded. “People will have the wrong idea.”

“Now is not the time to play games, y/n,” Seonghwa sighed. “I can see you- cross the street and when it gets busy, go to the backside of the convenience store. He’s a good distance behind you so if we run, we could lose him.”

“Got it. Bye,” you said and put your phone in your pocket, taking a deep breath and waiting for the signal to turn green, an old couple near you. You casually looked around- the man was indeed hanging around a few feet away.

You crossed the road with the couple, and after taking a sharp turn you started running when you spotted Seonghwa. He grabbed your hand and led you to an old building, exiting from the front and then going to another building, following him in the darkness and swallowing your panic until you made a stop at a parking lot.

“I think we’ve lost him,” he looked around. “You definitely had a tail-”

You sighed loudly in relief, your knees going weak and Seonghwa was quick to hold you against him, making you rest your head on his chest- you could hear his wildly thumping heart as well. Seonghwa chuckled in disbelief, patting your back. “I got you.”

“I was so scared for a moment back there,” you said as you finally looked up at him and he scanned your face, looking apologetic.

“I was more scared,” Seonghwa found himself tucking your hair behind. “I could see who's following you. I had to do something- I couldn’t simply wait and watch.”

You leaned into his touch, surprising him but then he brought you into a hug and you didn’t hesitate, wrapping your arms around his waist. He sighed deeply. “I’m sorry. I never should have asked that from you- I shouldn’t have let you do this alone. I don’t even know how they figured out-”

“It’s okay- I would have done it anyway,” you only hugged him tighter. “Besides, I was smooth. I’ve got it,” you broke the hug and patted your pocket that held the USB. “You should hire me. I think I might be a natural at this.”

Seonghwa laughed at that. “I think that’s tempting,” he licked his lips as he looked at you. “Let’s get out of here.”

He drove you home and insisted that you stay there for the rest of the day, just to be on the safe side. He made a call to cancel his meeting as well. When you arrived at the apartment, you offered him to come inside for dinner.

“I’m feeling chicken and beer now,” you said, getting out of the taxi and waiting for him. “A little company would be nice.”

Seonghwa pondered for a moment before following you out. “Isn’t this where Siyeon lives as well?”

“She won’t be home until 11 tonight,” you said, leading the way inside. He took off his shoes, looking around.

“Neat,” he commented. “I thought Siyeon’s place would look more like a dungeon.”

“It did,” you laughed. “Before I moved in. She’s better now.”

Seonghwa laughed at that and you took out the USB. “Should I just hide it here? It’s better to keep important things scattered, right?”

“Maybe, yes,” he thought for a moment. “I’ll just make a few copies of it.”

You sat down with Seonghwa on the couch, putting on whatever drama was airing and watching Seonghwa make copies on his laptop, handing you the original one to hide, which you did in a random jar in the kitchen that you were sure no one else would touch. Seonghwa was impressed. “I should have hid things in the kitchen too.”

“Doesn’t work everytime,” you told him and he shut his laptop and put it aside. The chicken arrived and you found yourselves absorbed in casual discussion, from the case to how he became a prosecutor to your family.

“We’re going this weekend, by the way,” you reminded him, having finished eating about half an hour ago and just relaxing with beer now. “You’re free for the day, right?”

“I am,” he confirmed and you scanned him- head resting on his hand, arm propped on the couch, sitting very comfortably on the floor. You could imagine him as Hades. Was it really a past life you were seeing or were you possessed? There was no way you were the goddess of spring and he the king of the underworld, but…

With your present occupations, you were beginning to doubt if it really made no sense.

“You’re staring, y/n,” he commented, his voice deeper. “What are you thinking?”

You gulped unconsciously. “Sorry. Just got lost for a moment.”

“I want to know what you’re thinking,” he pouted uncharacteristically and you laughed, taking the beer can away from him.

“Don’t tell me you’re drunk again!” You teased.

“I’m pretty sober right now,” he insisted and you narrowed your eyes at him, but he didn’t budge. “I also remember a promise I made for when I was sober-”

“Oh, please,” you looked away, feeling heat creep up your cheeks and he smiled at that.

“Do I make you nervous, y/n?” he asked, taking your hands away when you hid your cheeks and pulling them in his lap. “I’m sorry for today. I really wish you would stop involving yourself anymore.”

“Not this again,” you squeezed his hand. “We’re fine. We’re here. That’s all that matters- you know I can’t back out now anyway.”

He looked at you. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. It could get worse now.”

“Well, I want you to pull out too. I want to keep you safe, but it seems like we can’t get everything that we want…” you shrugged and he felt warmth inside after hearing that. “Now can you stop looking at me like this?”

“Like what?” He teased and pulled you closer, taking you by surprise, your face inches away. “Like this?”

His gaze dropped to your lips and you felt butterflies, unable to look away, your own gaze dropping at his plump lips now parted. He ran his thumb over your lower lip, patting your cheek before drawing away but you took his hand and pulled him back, taking him by surprise.

“You haven’t kept your promise,” you said.

“I don’t think I’m fully sober,” he replied.

“Does it look like I care about that?”

There it was- your gaze changing, your persona changing. He absolutely loved it when you got playful like this, and he wasn’t going to miss this chance. He smiled, leaning forward and hesitating before he kissed your cheek, lingering there for a moment. However, when he saw you with your eyes still shut, he couldn’t help but take it a step further, brushing his lips across yours as if asking for permission and you took the next step, pecking his lips and then drawing back as if you had been caught doing something.

“Y/n,” he groaned before he cupped your face and kissed you properly, moving his lips along yours, your hands holding his wrists tightening with every second and then he drew back for a breath. You moved closer, propping yourself in his lap and he felt deja vu, his arms going around your waist as you cupped his face and kissed him deeper.

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to feel this, but you felt like you were doing something absolutely right- you somehow knew where to touch him, where to hold him, how to kiss him- you already knew the planes and curves and edges of his face as you traced it while you kissed him, and you felt like you belonged there. Somehow, that thought made you feel overwhelmed and you broke the kiss, caressing his face as you looked him in his eyes.

“Don’t you feel like we’ve been here before, Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa thought he was hearing things, but he nodded. “I feel like I’ve known you all my life.”

You smiled at that, pecking his lips again. “Then I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

Seonghwa caressed your arms and you buried your face in his neck, wanting to feel closer, hugging him tightly. He hugged you back and held you for a long time before his phone vibrated and he came back to reality.

“I should get going before Siyeon comes. She’ll raise hell,” he laughed and you grinned.

“See you on the weekend then?” You asked. It was only two days away.

“Maybe you’ll see me before that too,” he smiled, taking his stuff and you walked him out. Before you could leave, he kissed you on your forehead.

“Let’s talk about this later, okay?” He said and you nodded, watching him leave, lovestruck.

—-----------------------------

You barely had the strength to move right now, but even if you did, there wasn’t any other place you would rather be, for you were home in the arms of your husband, the King of the Underworld.

Your king.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this…” he sighed. His voice sounded weary and you glanced up to meet his eyes- he looked beyond tired. “I wish I could take your pain.”

“We saw it coming, my love,” you buried your face in his neck. “One day or another, the mortals are going to forget us- we knew that. We knew we would dissipate into moths or flowers when that time came. And we are so brave to face it together- unlike the others who ended themselves.”

“I don’t like seeing you in pain though,” he insisted. “You could go to Styx. You could end this too-”

“Are you that miserable to be with me?” You teased and he laughed. You marvelled at how young his laugh sounded.

“Of course not. All I’ve ever wanted was to die in your arms.”

Your heart tugged at that- you had spent an indefinite time with Hades but when he said things like that, you felt like you were experiencing something new.

“Do you want to make a wish, then?” You asked. “Don’t tell me you’ve used the wish we got from Hestia.”

“I don’t think it’s any use now. She’s as weak as us, if not more.”

“But we could try- if we have the same wish.”

Hades tugged your chin up. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking… that this is the end, but I’d like to meet you in another life.”

“I’d like that too,” he nodded.

“Shall we wish to be reincarnated as mortal lovers then?”

“Why mortal lovers? Their lives are short and meaningless.”

“But,” you sighed dreamily. “But they know that, and still love with all their might. I’d like to have that with you once again.”

Hades smiled at that- he couldn’t have thought of something better. “Well then… let’s make that wish.”

“Well…” you got off the bus that stopped at the town where your home was. “This is it.”

Seonghwa put his hands in his pockets as he looked at the cloudy sky over the hills, the air feeling cleaner than usual. “It’s beautiful here.”

“It is,” you smiled and Seonghwa thought there was something sad about your smile. You walked side by side, following the track that led to your house. Seonghwa made small talk but he felt like there was something weighing on you- something else other than the fact that your mother could be involved in the biggest drug scandal in the history of Wonderland, so he let the silence take over until you reached the cottage house.

“Do you want to have some tea before we investigate?” You asked and he nodded, eager to see this part of your life. You unlocked the door and let him in and he looked around.

“It looks cosy but why is it so cold?” He shivered.

You smiled faintly. “It’s always been like this.”

You asked him to get comfortable and went to the kitchen, smiling at the pictures of your childhood hanging by the fireplace. When you came back, he asked you about the backstory of those pictures and you told him- first day of school, first broken tooth, first day at college and more. You showed him your room and he boasted how he would guess your room anywhere if he saw it- he was very familiar with your vibe now.

“And that’s my mom’s room, if you’re up for snooping,” you said and went inside.

“Very minimalistic,” he observed. “I don’t know what to look for, actually. You can do the snooping. I’m kind of scared of her.”

You chuckled at that, going through her drawers and the bookshelf, asking Seonghwa to check if there were hidden compartments in the room. However, you found nothing.

“She’s not that simple, my mother,” you said as you made sure everything was in place before exiting the room. “We should check her private greenhouse. She may have something there.”

“Do you have all her keys?” Seonghwa asked and you nodded. “I don’t think she’ll keep something like that where you could access it.”

“I think otherwise,” you glanced at him. “We’ve been playing cat and mouse for years now,” you told him as you unlocked her greenhouse, shivering a little as a few bad memories flashed in your mind. “I think this is where she’ll keep it, and then she’ll test me.”

Seonghwa didn’t say anything, just watched you as you went around and zoned out, staring at the far end corner. He decided to give you some space but after a few minutes, he found you still staring at the same spot.

He walked to you and gently put his arms around your waist in a back hug and felt you finally relax. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cleared your throat. “Just some bad memories here.”

“You wanna talk about it?” He pressed a kiss to your temple and you smiled faintly- you had missed this. You caressed his hands as you looked ahead.

“She used to lock me up here when I misbehaved, and I wasn’t the most well-behaved kid as a child,” you let out a short laugh. “I learned to love the dark. It worked until she found out I wasn’t scared anymore.”

“Oh, y/n,” he hugged you tighter. “You don’t have to pretend to be okay anymore.”

You pursed your lips, not wanting to cry so you turned around and let him sway you in a hug until you felt better. He sighed. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come here if I knew.”

“I needed to come here one day or another,” you shrugged. “And I’m glad you’re the one with me.”

Seonghwa caressed your cheek, kissing you deeply and hugging you again. “You’re really strong, you know that?”

You smiled, breaking the hug. “Thank you. I’m just pretending to be.”

Seonghwa smiled back, tucking your hair. “We all are, aren’t we?”

You nodded, spotting the familiar flower behind him. “That’s the Middlemist Blue. They’re more than I expected.”

Seonghwa turned around and found a few pots of the very rare flower. “It feels unreal to see it here. Do you think she’s only trying to keep this flower from going extinct, or…”

“I’ll look around- I really can’t say,” you bit your lip, going through the cupboards until you found a locked drawer. “What do you think she keeps here?”

“I don’t want to guess,” he admitted. “No key?”

“Let’s break it?”

“No, we don’t want to leave traces,” he said, glancing at your head. “Bobby pins?”

“Oooh,” you grinned, taking the pins out of your hair. “Don’t tell me you know how to do that.”

“I’ve learned a few tricks in my field- though one would question if I’m really doing something morally right,” he began unlocking the drawer. “I say as long as it’s serving a good purpose, you’re allowed to do something like this.”

“Wow,” you said as it unlocked and he flicked his hair proudly, making you stick out your tongue before you opened the drawer to examine the contents. You found her old pictures, a few of your father, and some receipts that you handed to Seonghwa.

“So she is providing the Middlemist Blue to Mr. Jang,” he went through the receipts. “Question is- is she keeping these because she’s involved directly in the drug dealing, or because she suspects something and is keeping proof?”

“Yeah, because she wouldn’t keep the receipts in this drawer unless they meant something important,” you nodded.

“But these date only a year ago,” Seonghwa observed. “Did Mr. Jang change his provider or did she only start suspecting foul play?”

“I guess only she could answer that,” you took pictures of all the receipts. “You’ll have to call her as a witness now, right?”

“I suppose, yes. I’ve found some other things too, but it’s better to call her privately and discuss it,” he looked sorry and you told him it was okay. You locked the drawer back and exited the greenhouse, taking a deep breath and turning to Seonghwa. “Do you want to go to my comfort place to get some food? I wanna show you the lake too before we go back.”

Seonghwa agreed- the day had been tense and he wanted to make the atmosphere between you two light again. You took him to the restaurant by the lake where you had some seafood. You walked around, now comfortably joking about stuff and making small talk until you reached the quietest spot around the lake next to the stream.

“I used to come here when I needed to be alone,” you settled down on the grass. “Never thought I’d bring someone here, much less a prosecutor who’s investigating my mother.”

“Please, can you stop joking about that already,” he laughed painfully, settling down next to you. “Tell me what you like about this place.”

“Well,” you looked up at the stars in the sky. “That. The sound of water. The dirt,” you patted the ground. “The peace this place provided. I felt disconnected here, as if I belonged to another world and was simply a visitor here.”

“Interesting,” he looked up as well. “I like the night sky too. Especially the moon. I feel at home here.”

You glanced at him- you’d heard that before, in a dream. You realised you had said the same thing as Persephone too. Seonghwa looked at you cautiously as well, swallowing the questions down but still daring to ask, “Do you dream when you sleep?”

“Don’t we all?” You frowned at how cryptic he sounded.

“I dream of another life sometimes,” Seonghwa decided to play it safe. “I dream that I’m all alone and cold in another world, until someone comes and puts life in me, around me.”

You felt your heart sink- could it be?

“I dream too,” your voice was quiet. “That I’m misunderstood and confined until someone frees me and takes me to another world where I can make my own choices. Where I can be free and not have to pretend to be someone else.”

Seonghwa and you both stared at each other, each lost as they tried to fit the pieces together. “Have you heard the story of Hades and Persephone, y/n?”

As soon as he said that, you almost lost your balance in disbelief. It couldn’t be a coincidence this time, could it?

You had one shot. You had to play it right.

“I’ve heard many versions,” you said cautiously and found his puzzled gaze confusing. “But… I believe in the one that I dream of.”

“No way,” Seonghwa breathed, turning to you. “What does the Underworld need?’”

It was impossible, but you found yourself leaning forward and caressing his cheekbone, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“‘It needs a touch of spring’.”

Seonghwa couldn’t believe his ears. He watched you laugh in disbelief as well. “Don’t tell me you’ve been dreaming about Persephone too, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa scoffed, looking up helplessly. “You’ve been dreaming about Hades?”

“I saw you before I ever met you, can you believe that?” You said and he held your hands, squeezing them. “I thought I was crazy.”

“I thought I was crazy- especially when I knew what your mother looked like before I saw her, and then I heard her call you Kore- I couldn’t believe my ears, I- this is unbelievable,” he sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “Am I dreaming right now?”

“I don’t think so,” you breathed. “If you’re Hades and I’m Persephone… what are we supposed to do, Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa shut his eyes, letting himself relax fully for the first time now that he knew he wasn’t alone. He heard you sniff and opened his eyes, finding your face wet with tears. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I don’t know what to do, Seonghwa,” you let him wipe your tears away. “I missed you. I’ve yearned for you my whole life, and when I saw you that day? I thought I was insane. I don’t know how I managed to hold myself back, but oh, goodness, I feel like I’ve waited an eternity to be with you-”

Seonghwa kissed your lips, taking you by surprise but you kissed back as eagerly as he was, clinging on to each other as if that could wipe the distance of aeons away. He found himself kissing your temple, your forehead, the places he used to kiss the most as Hades, and he let you run your hands through his hair like you always did. You let him get on top of you, not caring if anyone could see- it didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered now, except that you had finally found him.

He broke apart, resting his head at the crook of your neck, kissing your exposed skin lazily and you thought you could dissolve right in the ground. “You need to tell me everything.”

“Well…” you laughed, still finding the whole situation unbelievable. “Shall we find a place to stay the night then? I don’t think we can go back to my house…”

“Let’s go back to Sector 1- you can stay at my place… if you want to.”

“Of course, I don’t mind,” you smiled and decided to waste no more time.

Throughout the bus ride, you shared your stories- the first dream you had, when you had it, how it changed when you met each other. When you got to his place and had a few drinks (and a few kisses), you managed to sketch a timeline.

“So Persephone- or Kore, Demeter’s daughter,” you began, “didn’t know she was a goddess. She thought she was an ordinary flower nymph, but she had something else in her- she could make the flowers… die?”

“Sort of,” Seonghwa agreed. “I think she had anger issues.”

You gave him a look and he grinned. You sighed. “So she might have caused some destruction but Demeter always hid her from the world. That’s an awful lot like my mother. Anyways, one day she was panicking by the lake when Hades found her.”

“He said she called for him,” Seonghwa recalled. “Fitting how we found each other by the lake again, huh?”

You considered that, nodding. “So he offers her his company. Why?”

“He liked that she wasn’t afraid of him,” Seonghwa rubbed his chin. “And he found her powers interesting too.”

“So Persephone calls for him again- or he comes by- did he stalk her? Anyways, they talk a lot and get to know each other. Persephone realises Hades is not the cold monster everyone has made him to be. Hades realises she’s not the good girl she pretends to be.”

“I don’t think he stalked her,” Seonghwa pouted and you laughed. “Even if he did… I didn’t.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “The events are somewhat similar to what’s happening in our lives now, right? You’re still the King slash Grim Reaper of the Underworld. I’m still a floral goddess. So the question is… why are we having these dreams? Are we a part of an experiment? Or is it simply fate playing games with us? Were we really Hades and Persephone in our past lives?”

“Do you remember that dream?” Seonghwa looked at you. “We were powerless and old. When people started forgetting us, we started fading.”

You raised a brow at how he was now referring to the entities as yourselves. “And then we made a promise to stay by each other’s side, and-”

“And made a wish. What was the wish, y/n?”

You felt as if you’d been dumped with cold water. “To be reincarnated as mortal lovers.”

Seonghwa smiled, “I don’t think we have to think too much then. We got what we wished for, it seems.”

You caressed his hand. “Do you think we only met each other because we’re Hades and Persephone?”

“I don’t care about that, but one thing I know for sure,” he looked into your eyes, eager to erase any doubts you had. “I fell for you in this life because of who you are today. I don’t care if we’re Hades and Persephone, if we’re meant to be or whatever. I know for sure that I would have liked you even if we were not.”

“Gosh, you say that but you’re still as cringy as Hades,” you laughed, making him groan. You scooted closer to him on the couch, letting your hand travel to the nape of his neck. “Well … I like you for just you too. I like Prosecutor Park Seonghwa. I wanted to be sure that the old feelings weren’t messing with me, but you’re right. We’re really meant to be if we like each other for who we are today.”

“But you know what I like better?” Seonghwa’s gaze was hot as he traced your lips. “I know you- not the basics, but I know in my heart what you like,” he let his hands travel down the curve of your neck, satisfied when you shivered involuntarily. “And I’ve wanted to do this for a long, long time.”

He took your lips in a kiss, swiping his tongue along them and you immediately opened up for him, letting his tongue explore your mouth, the memories of it tugging at the back of your mind. You positioned yourself on top of him, arms around his neck, his hands on your waist as he kissed you passionately and you let your hips roll once, making him groan into the kiss and break apart.

“You’re not the only one,” you said and Seonghwa sucked in his breath at how dark your gaze was. “I remember it all too well. You were the King of the Underworld, and I was your Queen. This-” you looked down at your bodies. “This was my throne. You were cold and mysterious to the world, but for me, you were vulnerable and warm,” you smiled, curling your hands in his hair and leaning in to whisper in his ear-

“And I liked your hair longer.”

Seonghwa laughed deeply at that, shaking his head and letting you pepper kisses where he liked- along his jaw, on his nose, and then on his lips, which quickly turned heated, extra layers of clothes off and bodies as close as possible. Every brush of the skin and every kiss felt heightened, now that you both remembered what you had found and what you had lost. And there was no hesitation in your actions now. You had never been more sure about anything.

He was the one for you.

—----------------------

“I can’t believe you could suspect me of something like this,” your mother glared at you and you felt heat creep up your cheeks but Seonghwa’s hand on your thigh made you feel better.

“She’s not suspecting you, ma’am. She’s just trying to keep you safe,” Seonghwa’s tone was hard and you felt a bit proud of how he was standing up for you despite panicking earlier because he was very scared of your mother- he had the memories of Demeter to blame.

Seonghwa had allowed you to call your mother to your cafe for a private discussion first, now that he had conclusive evidence- but he wasn’t telling you right now, insisting he needed to hear your mother’s statement as well. You were thankful for that and he told you it was the least he could do for you.

“I’m doing this for your sake, whether you believe it or not,” you sighed. “You just need to tell me if you really know what Mr. Jang and the others are doing with the Middlemist Blue.”

“He’s always been interested in flowers,” your mother replied, tucking her hair back in her bun. “So when he showed interest in that rare flower and offered a high price for me to reproduce it, I didn’t suspect anything. I would have done that sooner or later anyway.”

“But did you know that the Middlemist Blue can be used as a hallucinogen?”

“Not at all,” she shook her head firmly. “I didn’t, until… until a year ago when I heard something suspicious- Mr. Jang was talking to his friend, saying something about a flower that makes him see another world. I overheard him talk about how he needed to find another source for the flower too. That’s when I started to keep the receipts- he found out that I suspected him and threatened me, but I was smarter. I told him if something happened to me… my daughter would expose the details to the world.”

You frowned. “Your plan was good but I had no idea- you never told me anything.”

“I didn’t know how to, and I didn’t want to involve you in something dangerous,” she pursed her lips. “They could have hurt you.”

You bit your lips as you thought. “So that’s it? You’ve been keeping track of his receipts?”

“I was trying to find a way to get out of this mess, but then I saw you,” she looked at Seonghwa and he straightened. “Prosecutor Park Seonghwa. I wondered why he sounded familiar.”

You and Seonghwa looked at each other. Seonghwa asked, “Why?”

“You were investigating the case,” she scoffed in amusement. “And you were by my daughter’s side. I thought you approached her because you were suspecting me. Is that true?”

“Of course not,” Seonghwa said before you could. “We have mutual friends. We met each other by chance.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugged. “Are you done interrogating me?”

Seonghwa took a deep breath. “I’ll provide witness protection to you- you can stop providing Mr. Jang with the flowers now. I know you weren’t directly involved, I just needed to hear it from you. I do have to ask you, though… how do you know Mr. Ahn?”

Your mother tensed at that. “What’s that got to do with any of this?”

You frowned at the sudden change of her tone and Seonghwa looked at you before saying, “Mr. Ahn of KQ Pharmaceutical frequents your place a lot, doesn’t he?”

“What has my private life got to do with this case?” She practically seethed and you raised a brow in realisation.

“Don’t tell me you’re dating him?” You scoffed. “I knew you were seeing someone, I just didn’t realise who… wait-” you looked at Seonghwa. “Mr. Ahn of KQ Pharmaceuticals?”

“Thank you for cooperating, ma’am,” Seonghwa got up and bowed. “I think you should also stop seeing Mr. Ahn for a while. I’ll be issuing an arrest warrant for him tonight.”

Your mother gasped in realisation and you stood confused, wondering just what was going on. However, she stood up and straightened after a moment. “I should have known. No one’s interested in a mere florist- not a man of his standing.”

“Don’t be too disappointed- not everyone is like that,” Seonghwa had a faint smile as he took your hand and caressed it, making you jump- you hadn’t told your mother anything about Seonghwa yet, and she was quick to notice. She only smiled knowingly.

“I’ll catch up with her later, but you-” she pointed a finger at Seonghwa, sighing. “You better do a good job at catching those assholes, and my daughter better not get hurt.”

“I’ll make sure of that,” Seonghwa nodded.

“Can I have a moment with you, Kore?” She asked and you nodded, going outside with her. She sighed deeply, looking at you with fondness, which was rare, but perhaps this time, you had earned it.

“I would have scolded you but… I’m glad he’s smart,” she grinned and you laughed nervously as well. She patted your cheek. “Come visit me soon. I’ll have no company now.”

“I’m sorry about Mr. Ahn…” you hesitated but she rolled her eyes.

“I should have known better-”

“No. You couldn’t have guessed,” you assured her, patting her arm awkwardly. “It’s okay. You should come by more often too. Wooyoung’s mother misses you. You and Siyeon’s mother should all hang out or something.”

“Open this place soon then,” she said. “We’ll gather here.”

You watched her leave until Seonghwa came by your side. “I’m sorry for not telling you earlier, but… I had to respect her privacy too.”

“You did the right thing,” you nodded. “I’m not sure how Mr. Ahn is involved.”

“I don’t know whether he really likes your mother or he used her, but… the company that’s been creating the drug is his too. He set it up to put his rivals behind bars- he purposely disturbed the peace. He pretended to be fazed by the loss when Dr. Kwon of Wonderland Hospital Sector 1 stopped using his products, and he used that to create a drug scandal, tempt the people of power with the drug and then put them behind bars. He must have felt like a god, using everyone like that in his game.”

“Wow… that’s a lot,” you whistled. “How did you find that out?”

“Mr. Jang and I struck a deal,” he smirked and you gasped in realisation. “We decided to help each other out a little. When I told him there was a possibility that Dr. Ahn was behind all of this, he was all ears. I’ll have to cut him some slack though, where I can.”

“Wicked,” you grinned. “So what’s next?”

“I’ll be prosecuting Mr. Ahn… and he better have the best lawyer in Wonderland to defend him,” Seonghwa smiled. “He can’t get out of this now.”

“It’s going to be over soon, huh?” You wrapped your arms around his waist. “I’m glad it’s over, Seonghwa.”

“Me too,” he sighed. “It’ll take a few weeks and I’ll be busy but… when I’m free from all of this, do you want to go to the beach?”

“You have to make it to the cafe opening first,” you laughed. “It’s next Saturday, you haven’t forgotten, right?”

“Of course not,” he kissed your lips. “I’ll be there.”

He was there, as promised, when you opened the cafe officially. You and Wooyoung felt proud when all your friends and family arrived, admiring the floral exterior with flowers for sale as well, Hongjoong’s soundtrack running in the background, the vintage theme going along with the whole vibe. The first day was as busy as it could have gotten, especially when your friends brought their coworkers and colleagues and a famous blogger came as well. Wooyoung was excellent in the kitchen, working well with the team he’d hired, and you stood as a cashier for the day shift, greeting everyone and giving away flowers, making sure everything was okay.

Siyeon came at night again with the mothers, and when your mother gave you an approving wink, you felt like you had finally done something good to please her. Wooyoung noted that, joining the mothers at the table himself and Siyeon pouted because even her mother loved him. You called Siyeon to where you were standing at the counter.

“If you don’t tell him that he looks hot in the apron or whatever, then I will, because I know that’s what you’re thinking,” you poked her stomach and she glared at you. “Come on. Even I’m dating now. I didn’t realise you were such a coward.”

“He doesn’t like me like that-”

“Trust me, he does. He can’t stop glancing at you whenever you’re around. And he even took you to his apartment to make you taste his dishes! He never does that!”

“That’s only because I have superior taste buds-”

“Shut up, and I better see you both together tonight,” you announced and she muttered curses under her breath which you ignored. At that moment, Wooyoung passed by you two, casually patting Siyeon’s back and you wiggled your brows at her. Wooyoung went into the kitchen and while you two were teasing each other, he came out and told you he was almost out of ingredients, so you should close the cafe for the day- it was almost 10 anyway.

“The first day was a success, right?” You asked and he squeezed your hand.

“Huge success. We did it,” he grinned and you grinned back, going to change the sign on the door and watching Siyeon compliment something. You went outside for air.

You inhaled deeply, feeling a sense of achievement having announced the cafe closed, however… Seonghwa was very late. You wondered where he was-

“Are you not going to let me in?” He came in front of you out of nowhere and you blinked.

“You’re late!” You pouted.

“I know, just got held back at the court, but… I bought you something to make up for it.” He took out a box and you narrowed your eyes before you opened it.

“Oh goodness, you really are worse than Hades,” you laughed, making him grin. “Couple rings?”

“Aren’t people into this these days?” He took out your ring, taking your hand and looking at you for permission before sliding it in. You admired the silver band.

“Maybe. I love it, Seonghwa. I really do.”

“Come here,” he hugged you, swaying you back and forth and you got lost in it until Seonghwa paused. “We might have… an audience.”

“Oh, fuck,” you muttered and he snorted as you broke the hug and looked back at not only Siyeon and Wooyoung but also their mothers and your mother watching you both with silly grins plastered on their faces. You waved at them awkwardly.

“Let’s get inside,” he laughed. “I need some coffee.”

“I’ll be right in after a minute,” you said and he kissed your temple, nodding and going inside. You watched him bark orders to Wooyoung who put him in a chokehold, making everyone laugh. You smiled to yourself- with your loved ones enjoying together, it really couldn’t get any better.

—--------------------

Being with Seonghwa now that you both realised that this was not your first life together was a whole different experience.

You had never envisioned yourself to be with someone who cared so much about you, for starters. You never thought you could meet someone who would understand you even when you didn’t explain, or know what you wanted even when you were not vocal about it. You sometimes found yourself wondering if he was real and you weren’t dreaming, but he was very real, and he was nothing like you had imagined- in the best way possible.

You had to come to terms with the fact that you were indeed living a second life. You spent a lot of days wondering what that meant. You wondered why you remembered it. You would have thought it was insane had you not correlated everything with Seonghwa- who also thought he was going crazy before he talked to you about it that day in your hometown. It was absurd, how you both found each other again, but it was starting to make sense.

Most of all, you thought about the past. You thought about your life as Persephone- you didn’t have all the memories, of course. Only bits and fragments, and sometimes you’d see a dream that would play out similarly in your present life too. You thought about your mother who still had a similar nature as Demeter, though you were now working out on your differences more. You thought about Hestia and wondered who she was- was she a part of your present life too? She had fulfilled your last wish, after all. You would like to see who she was today, if she was still alive in some sense.

You thought about yourself- the flower goddess who was also the Queen of the Underworld, who could bring the dead to life but also suck the life out of anything alive. You read more about the story on Persephone but found a lot of contradictions and decided to not search anymore, instead letting the truth unfold in your dreams.

You also thought a lot about Hades. Of the cold and mysterious King of the Dead, ruler of the Underworld, who somehow turned out to be the warmest person you knew. He was strong and powerful but he needed you. And that made you feel proud, in a sense. He believed in you and he proved to be right when he thought you could bring life to the Underworld. He loved you like no one else and devoted himself to you.

Perhaps, Seonghwa thought about those things too. He probably did- and you two had made a promise to share whatever dream you’d have of that life, though you found out after a few days that whenever you dreamed, it was together. You couldn’t believe the coincidence and thought you really were meant to be. So you promised instead to not let the events of that life interfere in your present life- after all, that was another time, another world, perhaps.

That didn’t mean Seonghwa and you didn’t use it to your advantage. You knew what his favourite flowers were, what he liked, how he approached things. He knew that about you too- when to give you space, when to hold you, when to tease you-

“You’re smiling like a fool,” Seonghwa’s lips brushed your ears as he whispered, and you leaned into his touch, digging your feet in the sand as the waves brushed them.

“Just thinking,” you muttered, caressing his arms that were slung around you and shifting in his lap.

“About?”

“Do you wonder where we would be if we didn’t meet each other that day?” You asked, squinting your eyes when the cloud passed by and a ray of sunshine hit the ground.

“Hmm… I do wonder but I get scared at the thought that you could have seriously gotten hurt that day.”

“But I didn’t,” you grinned and he kissed your cheek.

“We would have met later- it was inevitable if you think about it,” Seonghwa nodded slowly. “We also could have met way before if that fool Wooyoung would have introduced us earlier-”

You laughed. “It’s not his fault. Who would have guessed we could be a thing?”

Seonghwa smiled at that. “Yeah, we have to give him some credit. If we didn’t have a mutual friend, we might not have met after the police station when you came for the witness statement.”

“Well, we might have encountered each other again,” you thought about it. “And we would have texted each other casually or something.”

“True,” Seonghwa nodded.

“We could have met later, and you could have been dating someone else,” you sighed deeply, making him snicker. “Have you dated before though?”

“It never worked past a few weeks,” he admitted. “I always thought something was missing with the others.”

“But,” you shifted in his lap to face him. “We might have been interested in someone else if it wasn’t for our dreams and coincidences-”

“But that’s not why I was attracted to you now,” he pointed out. “I ignored the dreams- but you look like you’re interested in me because of them,” he narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps you should try dating someone else.”

“Please,” you scoffed. “I thought you were hot the minute I saw you. I would have tried to find you one way or another.”

Seonghwa raised a brow. “Is that what you think?”

You nodded eagerly and he laughed at that, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re too much.”

“Come on,” you poked his chest. “Be candid about this.”

“You want me to be candid about this?” He asked, his gaze changing as he shifted his position, making you lie down on the sand and getting on top of you. He licked his lips as he traced the outline of your face. “I think I would have used any excuse to meet you again- in fact, I knew what I was doing when I got your number the day we met… at least I like to think that I did.”

You laughed at that. “You had no idea back then, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll admit I only got your number because I needed you to come to the station later,” he said. “But… I would have definitely texted you again.”

“So you liked me first, huh?” You teased.

“Well…” he kissed your jaw, letting his lips trail down. “Does it matter?” He kissed your collarbone and you squirmed a bit but he pinned your wrists down and you giggled when the waves crashed and got you wet. “I like where we are now. Do you?”

“Hmm.. kind of, except the sand is getting in my hair,” you sighed loudly and he laughed, kissing your lips.

“That’s what I like about you,” he shook his head, pecking your lips again. “You’re the most ridiculous and unexpected person in my life.”

“Wow, I’m so flattered,” you pushed him away successfully, kicking his leg before rolling away from him while he grinned. “You’re also the most annoying person in my life. I thought Wooyoung would hold that title forever, but he has some serious competition now.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “You love me.”

You stifled your smile. “I do. What about it?”

He matched your gaze for a few seconds before he hid his face in his hands and you laughed, crawling to him. “What’s the matter?”

You knew what was- he was feeling overwhelmed, just like you did whenever he told you that he loved you. You hugged him tight, kissing his temple and making him look at you.

“I love you, Park Seonghwa. Look me in the eyes when I say it.”

He did and then he captured your lips in a heated kiss, making you arch back, continuing to kiss you and tease you as you lay back down and you thought you couldn’t be anywhere else right now.

He was there, with you, and it felt like you had another eternity to be with him.

#i read lore olympus and saw the vision #this had more slow burn and fluff than i intended buttt here we are #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa scenarios #ateez x reader #park seonghwa x reader #ateez headcanons #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez angst #park seonghwa angst #park seonghwa fluff #park seonghwa scenarios

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bambikisss · 1 year ago

Text

OHMAMI : K.HongJoong

🛵 : (mentioned)motorcyclist!HongJoong, badboy!HongJoong

📙 : After getting into a harsh argument with your boyfriend, things seem to get worse when the car breaks down, leaving you both stranded in the rain. So, not being to take it anymore, you call HongJoong to pick you and just drop you off at home. However, it seems he has other plans with you, tonight.

⚠ : mentions of vaping, slight cheating (if you don't take talking about breaking up as breaking up), unprotected sex

🎶 : OHMAMI - Chase Atlantic, Rude Boy - Rihanna, Deja Vu - Beyonce, Inception - ATEEZ

💕: Unprotected sex, vaping during sex (HJ does it once), complete bad boy HJ, passionate to rough, oral (m+f receiving), use of handcuffs, multiple orgsam (reader), taking a video/picture, biting, fingering

->Bambi's notes : I actually love this one so much, plus I love oreo HJ a lot lol. This may be one of my favorites.

(B/N = Boyfriend's name, HJ is just a shorter version of HongJoong.)

COMMENTS + REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED | ONLY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY

You always thought relationships should be easy. No, they should be. So why were you yelling at your boyfriend of 2 years in his old ass car on the side of the highway during a goddam rainstorm, when you should be home in bed?

"No, don't put this on me, B/N! All I asked you to do was block her number and you can't even do that! I asked you to do this almost two months ago and you're still texting her?!"

Oh, that's why- your boyfriend refused to cut off his previous fling. When you both started dating, you met her under the lie that she was his sister. You found that weird because, for the year you had known him before you both had begun dating, he had never mentioned any other siblings, nor did his parents. So imagine your surprise when you hear his phone buzzing in the middle of the night to see a text from her saying "I know we agreed to stop sleeping with each other, but I need you, tonight. The toys don't feel as good as you."

Now, when you first read it, you were in shock as Sweet Home Alabama blasted in your head. But, then you became rightfully upset. You thought about it all night until the next day, bringing it up with him during breakfast. And when you saw the color absolutely drain from his face, you knew he had some explaining to do. That's when he told you the truth: she was his friend and ex-fling. He had agreed to break it off when you and him began dating, but she seemed to think otherwise. You could remember how hard you gripped the spatula at his words, not being able to understand why he had not only lied to you, making you believe that she was your sister, but that she still thought it was alright to text you something like that.

After a few weeks of him apologizing, you told him that the only way you would get closure was for him to block her number. You thought that since she didn't respect his wishes to end it, then she wasn't a friend he should keep around. He agreed to do that for you.

No, he promised.

So when you saw her at the party you and your boyfriend were attending together, and noticed the way she seemed to look at him, you knew something was up. Your feeling then got worse when you noticed how often your boyfriend was on his phone and how much effort he put into keeping it from your view. Your feeling was then confirmed when you got in the car later and the bright message came onto the car's screen: I promise. Y/N won't know about us.

That now led to the argument you and your boyfriend were having on the side of a highway during heavy rain in his car. As your voices continued to rise, you knew that this conversation wouldn't be going anywhere. You needed to go home and just be away from him, and maybe drink some of your favorite wine. "You know what, B/N? Whatever. No, seriously whatever. Take me home." Your voice was almost deadpan and broken due to all the yelling that had just been happening. Your boyfriend sighed, flicking his wrist to turn the car in the ignition as he tried to turn the car on, mumbling his own "whatever." However, the car didn't turn on. He continued to try and turn it on, sighing when he noticed the E flashing on his dashboard.

You felt a spark of annoyance fill you once more as you realized that he didn't fucking put gas in the car like you had suggested he do for days. Sometimes, it felt like taking care of a child and talking to a wall. "Fuck. What are you going to do?" You didn't hide your annoyance in your voice as B/N rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone. Your eyes then instantly zoomed in on the name on the top of his messages. You then cursed when you noticed he was texting her to drop off some gas for the car, and then sending her his location. You felt your body heat up as you met his eyes. Out of all the people he knew, he chose her, the subject of the argument to come drop off gas?

"Really, her? You couldn't pick someone else?" You asked, crossing your arms as your boyfriend pinched his nose, mumbling a small "shut up, Y/N."

That was your last straw.

You took out your own phone, opening your own messages to click on your close friend, HongJoong. You'd be dammed if you saw his "sister", ex-fling, or whatever she actually was to him, and let her help you get home tonight. You'd find another way.

Your eyes zoomed in on the keyboard as you quickly typed out a quick SOS message and your location to HongJoong. Within a few moments, you were not only gifted with a read receipt but with a message saying "On my way." Good ole HongJoong- would drop anything to come help you.

"Who are you texting?" Your eyes narrow at your boyfriend, his question making you hot once more. You don't respond, choosing to scroll through social media till HongJoong got here. You hoped he would get here before the other woman got here.

Well, you seemed to be lucky tonight, because soon parked his black hellcat in front of your boyfriend's car, then texted you "here. come on, princess."

While you were gathering your things, your boyfriend narrowed his eyes at the car, looking at it through the rain before he realized who that car belonged to. You knew how your boyfriend felt about HongJoong, which also drove you to choose him to come pick you up. Your boyfriend and HJ didn't mix well- your boyfriend hated how HJ always seemed to have his arm wrapped around you, a smirk on his lips when he talked to you, or how he constantly used nicknames with you. HJ, on the other hand, thought your boyfriend was shady and annoying. You smirked as you grabbed your bag, only for your wrist to be grabbed by your boyfriend, his voice now tense as he spoke. "Really, him? You really couldn't wait for-"

"You told me to shut up. Take me leaving as me shutting up" you hissed, ripping your wrist from his grip as you made sure you had everything. Before you could open the car door, though, your boyfriend spoke one more time. "If you get in his car, we're breaking up."

Now, what kind of threat was that? You rolled your eyes before you opened the car door, allowing the rain to hit your body as you met your boyfriend's eyes for the last time that night. "Fine. We're done. Fuck you and have fun fucking your sister." And with that, you slammed the car door closed, making your way to HJ's warm car. When you sat down in the passenger seat, you were met with HJ wearing his signature black hoodie and ripped jeans. He had his half-blonde, half-black hair styled, rings over his fingers, and a fruit punch-flavored vape snug in one hand. When you met his eyes, you noticed his new eyebrow piercing that seemed to glint in the streetlights.

"So, do you want to tell me now or later why I'm picking you up on the side of the highway from your boyfriend's car?" He asked, smiling at you softly as picked up his vape, taking a deep breath of the flavored nicotine before rolling down his window, breathing out the smoke before returning his attention to you. You don't know how many times you had told him to stop vaping, but he always seemed to ignore your words, but respectfully- not vaping around you in closed areas, not pushing out the smoke in your direction, not taking you to the vape shop with him, etc. You always appreciated it, for some weird reason.

"No. Just take me home. It's a long story that I do not want to relive right now." HJ noticed the annoyance in your voice, chuckling before turning his car on, the expensive car revving to life before he simply said "whatever you say, princess"

~>~

"So, like I had told you a while ago, he was still talking to his "sister?" You rolled your eyes at the playful tone in HongJoong's voice as he drove, shaking his head as he approached a red light. When you had told him about the whole situation, you hoped he would comfort you first, then make fun of it. But, deep down, you knew better. "I thought I had made it pretty obvious that I didn't want him talking to her. Then he had the nerve to say that if I got in your car, then he would break up with me."

"Woah, Y/N. So it's over?" HongJoong turned to look at you, raising an eyebrow hopefully. You shook your head as you rested it against the window, watching as the remaining rain drops from the rain storm moved down his windshield. You knew it wasn't really over. He said that in the heat of the moment and you knew that this needed an actual conversation because you knew B/N. He always said something in an argument to leave you a sting of pain.

Your attention soon returned to the street signs as the car moved, your eyebrows furrowing as you realized that this isn't the way to your house, but to HongJoong's. When you mentioned it to him, he only chuckled before he said "Y/N, princess, come on. You really think I would let you go home where I know that you're going to down a bottle of wine by yourself and cry? Why would I, being the great friend that I am, let you do that? So, you're staying with me at my house. No exceptions." You tried to argue weakly with him, but it was obvious that he wasn't going to change his mind. You relaxed back in the seat, watching the familiar street signs move as he drove.

The car soon stopped in front of his garage, the lights on inside to show you that he instantly left when you sent him that text. That thought made you smile. "Hold on, princess." Before you could leave the car, you felt his hand wrap around your wrist, the same way your boyfriend's had, but only more gentle. You turned to meet his eyes as his fingers gently moved over the skin on your wrist, his eyes glimmering with something bad...almost naughty as he looked at you. "Even though I know you know this about me, just remember that I'm the type of man to take what someone says at face value...and since your little boyfriend, no ex, said that if you got in my car, it's over, and you got in my car..."

HongJoong let his words trail off as he lifted your wrist to his lips, pressing a small kiss to it before gently biting it with teeth, making you gasp softly. He smiled more against your wrist before he dropped your hand from his grasp, shooting you a wink before grabbing his vape and car keys, making his way inside. HongJoong had a thing for you for the longest time, it only growing when he saw you with B/N. He felt protective and almost territorial over you, not hesitating to wrap his arm over your shoulder or call you a variety of nicknames even though he knew you were taken. He knew that he could be a better man for you, no, that he was the better man for you. He just needed to see if you felt the same way.

You sat in shock in his car, noticing how slow he was putting his key into the door, as if he was waiting for you. You scrambled to grab your bag and phone before jogging up to join him at the front door, making him chuckle. "There you are, princess. I thought you were going to try and spend the whole night sleeping in my hellcat."

Your mind was still scrambled due to HongJoong's actions, not responding to his comment as you follow him into the house. You smiled at the familiar scent, along with the various motorcycle items on the kitchen counter, all polished. You smiled as you dragged one of your fingers along the helmet, smiling more at the reflection of you and HJ. "You know, you still haven't taken me on a ride on your prized motorcycle. You promised me for my birthday last year that you would" You laugh softly as he rolls his eyes, approaching you with his own smile as he moves to press his chest against yours, making you back up against the counter and helmet. "I rushed to go pick you up from your goddam boyfriend and this is how you treat me, Y/N? I'm offended" You bite your lip softly as one of his hands moved to your lower back, right above your ass as he whispers "plus, you can ride something else, tonight."

You didn't know where HongJoong suddenly obtained the confidence to say such things and touch you like this, but it made you almost dizzy. You had never felt that way for your boyfriend when he did this stuff to you, but HongJoong seemed to have your mind already fuzzy, all from a flirty joke and his touch alone. "Tell me, Y/N, have you ever thought about me when you're with B/N? Do you ever wish you were in my car or in my house when you were with him?" HongJoong raised an eyebrow as he spoke, his hand moving slowly up the small of your back as his fingers poke the under the your shirt, making you sigh. "Do you ever wish it was me touching you like that? Don't you wish you were in my bed, my lips all over you, making you feel so much better than your fucking ex?" You didn't have a response, but he knew. He had seen how your eyes linger on his lips when they're wrapped around his vape, how you get when he wraps his arm over your shoulder, how you seem to call him first when something happens so he can comfort you. You have female friends who could comfort you, but you always seem to want him first.

Your mind was dizzy, trying to remind you about B/N, but you couldn't. HJ had you in a trance...and he wasn't wrong.

You met him in a hungry kiss, running your hands through his hair as his hands move under your shirt, working on removing your bra. You gasped softly into the kiss as he skillfully removed your bra, pulling it from under your top before he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. The kiss seemed to become hotter as he began to walk you both to his bedroom, his groans coming through the kiss as you ground against him. Your eagerness only made him more horny, kicking open his bedroom door before he pressed you against the first wall he saw, your back now against one of his posters as he continued to kiss you, his tongue pushing into your mouth as his fingers push up your top.

"Fuck, Joong," You gasped as your breasts became exposed to the cold bedroom air, the nipples hardening as HongJoong tossed away the fabric. He smirked softly, glad that you're already saying his name. But, he has things to attend to.

Your eyes close as his lips wrap around one of your nipples, the other one getting pinched and rolled by one of his hands. Your legs seem to tighten around his waist, arching your back as his teeth seem to graze over your nipple before he switches, giving the other one the same treatment as he says "wouldn't want this other one to be jealous." You didn't care, running your hands through his hair as he slowly kissed down your breasts, licking along your stomach as he got onto his knees. You never thought you'd see him on his knees, but it did something for you. He roughly pulled down your pants, tossing them away haphazardly before he gripped your legs, placing them onto his shoulders as he looked up at you with hooded eyes.

"You know, I've always wondered if you have pretty panties. Based on all the bathing suits you've worn, it always made me hard to think that you had pretty little panties that could get ruined by your naughty pussy" You didn't have a chance to respond to his words as he pushed your underwear to the side, licking a long strip up your pussy slowly before going back to dive his tongue into you. Your back once again arched against the wall as he played with your folds, taking his time tasting and licking every crevice of you. You hummed against his face, rolling your hips against his face as he sped up.

"Good girl, baby." HongJoong gently pulls back from your pussy, spitting back into it before he sped up his movements, his mind filled with only thoughts of pleasing you, getting you off on his tongue right against his wall. You can't help but moan louder as he speeds up, one of his hands moving up your body to grip your neck as he moans loudly into your pussy, the vibrations pushing you closer to your orgsam. HongJoong smiles as he notices how much louder you've gotten, his tongue now curling and speeding up as he fucks you with his tongue. His eyes never left yours as he squeezed around your neck, his own moan getting louder as your eyes begin to roll back. "Come on baby. Cum for me." He lowly praised you as you came, his tongue only slowing down when you began to whine.

As you slowly come down from your high, you feel HongJoong move you from the wall to the bed, roughly dropping you onto the bed before he begins to strip himself. You turned your head to see him standing in front of you, completely naked with his hand wrapped around his thick cock, moving along his length slowly as he watched you. You could feel your mouth and body regain all of your energy as you watched him, a small moan leaving your lips as his thumb moved along his tip, gathering his precum before chuckling. You sat up on your knees as he moved to sit on the bed in front of you, his free hand gripping your jaw to make sure you met his eyes.

HongJoong had many fantasizes about you, but seeing you right now on your knees in front of him in his bedroom did something to him. He felt like he could cum right at the sight, but he wanted to wait.

His eyes continued to meet yours as his precum covered thumb moved to your lips, watching as you slowly opened your mouth to wrap around it, your tongue moving to meet it as you licked and sucked it clean. He couldn't help but smirk, his eyes darkening once more as his cock twitched.

"I knew it, Y/N. You're absolutely filthy." He chuckled, humming as he moved his thumb around your mouth before pulling it from your lips, smirking at the string of saliva you left connecting to his thumb. You nodded at his words, willing to agree to whatever he said in that moment. HongJoong chuckled at your nod, laying down on the bed with his head against your knees. You looked at him with confusion across your face as he grabbed his vape, your hands running through his hair as he slowly blows out the flavored air. At the feeling of your hands in his hair along with the rush from the vape, he couldn't help but close his eyes. It felt nice, despite the fact that you both were naked and horny still, this moment was something he had always wanted with you. But, his twitching dick needed to be attended to.

"Sit on my face."

The moment was quickly shattered at his words, your eyes widening as your hands stilled in his hair. He slowly opened his eyes to see your reaction, your wide eyes making him laugh. "Come on, Y/N, don't be so shocked. Who wouldn't want you to sit on their face?" You could feel your cheeks heat up, smacking his shoulder as he laughed more. His blunt words had you stunned, but the idea did make you wet once more.

"I've never done it before, though" You had wanted to with B/N, but the opportunity never came up as well sex with him was...bland. HongJoong hummed as he kissed your knee and thighs, shrugging before he looked up at you once more. "And? Who better to do it with than with me?" You gasped as he gripped your knees, spreading them open before his hands moved up your sides, pulling you closer to his body to almost crawl over him. You let him move you, placing your hands on the bed as they sat on either side of his legs. You couldn't help but notice his thick cock once more leaking precum as his hands move up your thighs and ass, gripping your flesh as he hummed. He spread you open before his hands gripped your hips, pulling you back so you could sit on his open mouth. At first, you tried to not fully sit down as you were scared of crushing him, but that only made him groan loudly in annoyance, his teeth meeting the inside of your thigh before roughly pulled you down onto his mouth.

Your head immediately fell back as his tongue eagerly moved around your pussy, his moans now louder. In this position, his tongue could go deeper into you, but he could also feel and grip your ass.

"Fuck, you taste so good. I knew someone as hot as you would have such a naughty pussy, Y/N." HongJoong gripped your hips more as his lips wrapped around your clit, chuckling when he felt your thighs shake. You felt like you couldn't sit up straight anymore, leaning forward so your hands were once again against the bed, your hips still making sure to press down again his mouth. Your moans got louder the deeper his tongue moved in you, his rings adding to the experience as he gripped your ass, spreading you open just the way he wanted. Your head soon turned to see his cock still leaking, you mouth watering once more as you thought of his taste you had on his thumb.

HJ felt you move, raising an eyebrow. "Y/N, why are you- oh my fucking god, baby"

His head fell back as you took him into your mouth, his mouth open as you licked along his length. He was going to ask you later on if you wanted to suck him off, but having you now in this position was just as good, if not better. He chuckled breathlessly as you shook your ass, reminding him of what he should be doing. He licked his lips before his focus returned, one of his hands coming down to smack your ass, moaning deeply with you as you moan around his cock, one of his fingers moving along your pussy before pushing into you. He tossed his head back again as you moaned louder around him, not hesitating to begin to fuck you with his finger while his other hand slowly moved up your back to your head, pushing you down around his cock before he began to fuck up into your throat, chuckling whenever you choked or gurgled around his cock.

"Don't act like you can't take this cock, Y/N. We both know you're a naughty girl," he tsked, his hand moving from your hair back to your ass as he gripped it, moving it so he could watch his finger enter and disappear in you only to reappear covered in your wet juices. You moaned loudly at his words, pressing your nose down against him as you held him in your throat for a few seconds, making him moan before smacking your ass again, a small "good girl" leaving his lips in praise before he added another finger into you, curling it.

You felt your second orgsam approach as he moved his fingers faster, his hand moving to grip your hair as he tugged you off his cock, wanting to hear you moan his name louder as his fingers plunged into you at a rough pace. With him repeatedly hitting your spot and with how hard he was gripping your hair, you knew your orgsam was going to hit fast and hard, just like how you both wanted.

"Joong, I'm so close, don't stop" you moaned, your own body moving back and forth to meet his fingers' movements, making him not only moan, but move even faster. He placed a small kiss and bite to your thigh as it began to shake, curling his fingers once more as you began to shake around them. He praised you as you came, his hand moving from your hair to smack your ass gently, moving his body so you could lay down against the bed. He licked his fingers as he watched you shake gently against the bed, feeling like you could fall asleep right there. But, the feeling of sleep went away when you felt his hands move up your body to your shoulders, the tip of his cock now pressing against your entrance.

"Don't fall asleep on my now, Y/N. I still haven't came yet, nor have you got to wet my cock." You gripped the sheets as you tried to sit up to try and explain that you couldn't move your legs, but he seemed to beat you to it. You rested your head against the bed as he stood up from the bed, walking out of the room. You rested against the bed as you tried to wonder what he was doing especially after what he had said. You had never came twice from someone, especially that hard and without them even using their cock. A part of you couldn't help but be excited at the idea of him fucking you though, especially with how thick it felt in your throat.

HJ soon returned to your sight, his naked body leaning against the doorway as he looked at you. You couldn't see his hands, but you noticed how his eyes slowly moved over your body, admiring it once more as his cock twitched again. He wanted to see it once more before he ruined you, knowing that when he was done having you cum all over his cock, you both were going to be too exhausted to do anything else.

"Tell me, baby, did B/N ever... experiment with you?" You raised an eyebrow at his words, shaking your head at his words. "No, it was always pretty vanilla, why?"

"Well, that's such a shame, isn't it? He should always be looking for new ways to pleasure you, make you scream his name, to make you cum the hardest, right?" You nodded at his words, making him smile. His smile looked mischievous and evil, his tongue coming out to lick along his bottom lip before he fully pushed open the bedroom door, showing a small grey digital camera in one hand and a pair of handcuffs in the other. He slowly approached the bed, his fingers playing with the handcuffs as his eyes locked in one yours. His eyes were dark- like you were being hunted.

"I wouldn't want you to forget about our night together, Y/N. I want you to hold any other man who you sleep with to my standards, princess." He tossed the items onto the bed before he gripped your jaw, pulling you close to him, his lips hovering right over yours. You couldn't help but lean in close to try and kiss him, but he quickly pulled back, chuckling at your pout before he shook his head. "No, no, baby. Let me set you up first, then we can maybe kiss"

"Well then, hurry up" HJ chuckled at your eagerness, despite just not being able to move a few minutes ago. But, nonetheless, he was here to please you.

He moved you so your hands were against the headboard, spreading your legs before he handcuffed your wrists together, then handcuffed them to the headboard. You looked down at your knees that sat pressed into his pillows before he pulled them back a bit, pressing his hand down against your lower back so you'd arch it. When he was satisfied with your position, he then reached down to grab the camera before leaning in to press his chest against your back, the tip of his cock against your pussy once more. He faced the camera towards you both, his lips moving to your ear as he whispered "a little before picture." He pressed a quick kiss to your ear before he clicked a button, the camera taking a picture of the two of you before he tossed it haphazardly onto the bed, his hands moving to grip your hips before he slowly pushed into you.

Your moans mixed in together as his cock stretched you out, your nails digging into the headboard as he his fingers dug into your hips. He slowly kissed up the back of your neck before biting down on your shoulder as his cock fully stretched you. He hummed at the feeling of your warm and wet walls around his cock, feeling you pulse around him before he slowly pulled back out, leaving just his tip in you before he grunted into your ear lowly "be loud, baby. Don't hold back."

Your nails dug more into the headboard as he roughly pushed back into your, his hips now snapping against your ass as you moaned loudly. Your jaw became slack as he fucked you, his loud moans mixing with yours as he smacked your ass. Your eyes had closed at the feeling, his hips beginning to slow down for a moment as he rolled his hips to meet your ass, moving deeper in you. Then, you heard it.

Click.

You bit your lip at the sound of the camera going off, turning your head back to see HJ holding the camera, taking a picture of your ass against his hips, your arched back, and now-

"Keep looking back here at me, baby" he too a picture of your face as he picked back up the pace, snapping a few of your reactions to his cock diving in you before he dropped the camera once more in favor of gripping your hips. You felt your body heat up once more, panting that you were about to cum again. HongJoong only chuckled deeply before he whispered in your ear "I don't fucking care, cum again for me baby. Come on, cream on my cock, I'm still going to fuck you till I fill you up with my cum"

You moaned loudly at his words, clamping down around him before you came, your body shivering at the feeling as he moaned. The cum ring began to form around his cock, making him have to rip his eyes from his cock before he gripped your breasts, pulling your body. You bit your lip as your back was now fully arched, your wrists still against the headboard while your legs were now against the bed, HJ now straddling them before as he panted, his hair now pressed against his sweat covered forehead.

"Now, I can fuck you deeper baby and push my cum nice and deep, just like you deserve" he smirked before he began to move his hips again, biting his lips as he listened to you moaning his name louder as his cock drilled into you, the new position allowing him to go as deep as he wanted. He leaned down to bite your shoulder, licking the area before his hand moved around your stomach, chuckling as he felt his cock through you. "You're so fucking filthy, Y/N. Be honest, you wanted this- you wanted me to come pick you up, take you my house, handcuff you to my bed, and fuck this naughty pussy just like this, didn't you?"

"Yes! Yes, I wanted you to" you moaned loudly, your mind now a mess as he moves even faster, chuckling against your neck before he grunts, roughly pushing all the way in you before he stops, making you whine. He gently shushes you before he leaned back to grab his phone, unlocking it before he pulls up his camera, setting it on the nightstand so it could see you and him both on the recording before he pressed start.

HongJoong was now panting, kissing your shoulder before he whispered in your ear "I'm about to fucking cum" you nodded, spreading your legs a bit more as he began to grind against your ass, his hands moving up your body to grip your breasts before he bit the shell of your ear, grunting deep in your ear "I'm going to fill you up, baby, but I want to hear you ask for it. Be loud enough so the camera can hear you baby. Be loud"

"Please give me your cum, HongJoong, give me all of it. Fill me up so much that it leaks out of my pussy, so then you have to fuck it back into me"

Your words cause HongJoong's brain to short circuit, his cock driving into you a rough yet pleasurable pace as he wrapped his arms around your body, holding you close to him he placed wet kisses against your shoulder, growling lowly that he was super close. That was your only warning before his hips pressed roughly and firmly against your ass, his dick twitching in your before his cum painted your walls, his moan echoing around the room as he panted against your shoulder. His eyes were shut for a bit before one of his hands moved over your handcuffed wrists, his hips once more moving in you, ignoring how the overstimulation felt for him, his other hand moving to play with your clit. You gasped, meeting his hips as you moved back, your ass slightly bouncing against them as you chased after your last orgsam. Your eyes began to flutter closed as you came, your body falling limp around his biceps.

"There we go, baby, I'll hold you together. I knew you could do make a mess all over my dick" You hummed at his words, feeling like you were beyond cloud nine. You both rested against one another for a bit before he slowly uncuffed you from the headboard, carefully laying you down on the bed. You felt like you were going to fall asleep, your eyes fighting to stay open as he slowly pulled out of you before going to grab a rag and clean you up. You breathed in his scent on his pillow, a small smile coming onto your face at the scent before jumping a bit at the feeling of the cloth.

"Don't move, princess. You body must be sore" he hummed, wiping all of his cum from your body before he rubbed your back, pressing a kiss down to the small of your back before he laid down behind you, gently spooning you. You smiled at his warm embrace, your eyes still fighting to stay open.

You were about to doze off when you felt his arms move, his hands grabbing his phone from the nightstand before he stopped the recording. He then saved it, checking the time before he turned off his phone. "What are you going to do with that recording, Joong?"

"Well, it depends on how you answer my question, baby," you looked back over your shoulder at him, his lips pressed against your shoulder as his hand rubbed your side. You couldn't help but admire him- the moonlight that came through his window made his eyebrow piercing glimmer, his eyes were now soft, and his oreo colored hair was now a mix due to your hands running through them. He didn't look like such a bad boy in this moment, just HongJoong.

He admired you too, smiling against your shoulder before he decided to bite the bullet. "So, is this a one off thing, or...are you going to break up with B/N and maybe see where things can go with us?"

You could see the nervousness develop in HJ's eyes- a look you've never seen, but one you that showed you he meant it, and that he was being vulnerable with you. You carefully turned in the bed to cup his cheeks, a small smile on your lips before you spoke. "You're the person who said you'd take what someone says at face value. He said that if I got in your car, than he was breaking up with me. Plus, I had told him to have fun fucking his "sister," too, so-"

"You said what?" HongJoong laughed, making you laugh as he held up his hand, high fiving you before he slowly intertwined your fingers, pressing a kiss to your hand and your wrist, pulling you close so your head was against his chest. You nodded, squeezing your hand with his before you continued. "So, I think things are over between me and B/N. And, I'd love to see where things go between you and me, Joong. But, you have to take me riding on your motorcycle like you promised"

HongJoong laughed at your words, pressing a small kiss to your forehead before he nodded. "Fine, tomorrow I'll take you out on the motorcycle, but that's only after a safety lesson. Then, we'll go out for dinner."

You agreed with his words, squeezing your hand with his once more before your eyes slowly closed, listening to his heartbeat as you both fell asleep in each other's embrace, listening to the rain outside.

#~bambi #ateez smut #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong smut #hongjoong smut #ateez smau #ateez smut reactions #ateez x reader #ateez ff #ateez #ateez x reader smut #bambikisss #ateez hongjoong x reader

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callsign-rogueone · 6 months ago

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deja vu - b.d.

Bodhi Durran x reader part of Bodhi and Darling's story 💗 words: 2.9k 🏷: set in the year before Fourth Wing (Bodhi’s first year). one tiny book spoiler but it’s not stated explicitly, hurt/comfort, anxiety, imagined character death (in a nightmare). mild dissociation, anxiety, nausea, fighting (challenge match), one very small injury, canon-typical peril and danger.

“I love you,” Bodhi rasps, closing his eyes. “I’m so… sorry…”

“No, no, hey, look at me,” you beg, hot tears slipping down your cheeks. “You’re gonna be okay, we’re getting you help, but you have to keep looking at me, okay?”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t move or make any indication that he can hear you. He’s silent, perfectly still — he isn’t breathing.

“Bodhi,” you cry, “Bodhi, please don’t leave me. Wake up, please.”

His heart has stopped beating. The love of your life, the man who had sworn to protect you, who you had sworn to love in sickness and in health and through the test of time, until the end of your days, is dead.

You feel like the air has been squeezed from your lungs, your breaths coming in choked sobs.

“Wake, child,” someone interrupts — Sìoda. “It’s just a dream. It’s not real.”

You shake yourself awake, panting like you’d been running for miles. You look down at your palms, illuminated by the gentle moonlight filtering into the room -- they’re clean; not streaked with Bodhi’s blood. It was just a dream. Just a terrible dream, likely a product of the overactive imagination you’ve had your whole life, and your anxiety about the dragonkind exam you have tomorrow that you’re convinced you’re going to fail, despite spending all evening studying.

“Your mate, and all of your brothers and sisters are safe in their beds,” she soothes, “as are mine.”

Oh. You still aren’t any good at shielding, so she’s been getting all of your emotions through the bond — you’d likely woken her up with your distress.

“I’m sorry,” you say in a guilt-ridden whisper. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Don’t apologize, my child. Just breathe.”

You mop up your tears with the sleeve of your pajama shirt, and focus on deepening your breaths, trying to relax your racing heart.

“There are still a few hours until formation,” she says gently. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

You lay back down, gazing at the wall of gray stone beside you, counting the bricks and trying to find patterns in the texture until the exhaustion overtakes you, and you fall back asleep.

Thankfully, your subconscious doesn’t torment you with any more cruel sights. You wake up to gentle November sunlight warming your skin and birds chirping — last month, a pair of doves had made a nest in the tiny alcove by your window.

You get dressed quickly, sorting out your hair and straightening your uniform. You’re in the middle of lacing your boots when there’s a knock at your door, the familiar rhythm that you know can only be Bodhi; like clockwork, he comes down the hall to get you every morning so you can walk to breakfast together.

You unlock the door with your mind, something you’ve been able to do for the last week, breathing a sigh of relief when he walks into the room unharmed and smiling. You hug him extra tightly, tucking your head into his neck and holding him a moment longer than usual, comforted by the steadiness of his breathing.

“You okay, Darling?” he asks, sounding concerned.

You hum in contentment. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You don’t mention the dream, because nobody wants to hear about their own death, and it would be silly to bother him with something you’ve already gotten over — though you know the image of Bodhi bleeding out in your arms on the floor of that empty classroom will likely be burned into your brain forever.

He gives you an easy smile, shouldering your bookbag and gesturing for you to head out the door.

You’re comforted by the normalcy of the day. It’s almost too easy, too smooth.

Everyone is present and accounted for at breakfast, in good spirits — as good as they can be, in your current situation. Battle brief passes quickly, with no reports of catastrophe, though you know that they likely aren’t giving you all the information they have. The dragonkind test you’d been so worried about is much easier than you’d expected, and you have the rest of the afternoon off until dinner.

You don’t object as your squadmates suggest you use one of the empty common rooms to study in — the same one you’d seen in your dream.

What would you even say? Sorry, guys, but can we pick somewhere else to be, because I had a nightmare last night that Bodhi died in this room?

You shake it off, repeating Sìodha’s words in your mind as you crack open your textbook: It’s just a dream. It’s not real.

But then every word of the conversation going on around you starts to sound very familiar, like you’ve heard it before — like they’re reciting lines for a stage play.

It’s just a dream. It’s not real.

But this can’t be a coincidence. There’s too many similarities for comfort; the location, the timing — the sun is just starting to set — the exact page that each boy’s book is open to… you remember that, remember Sawyer’s book being open to a page with that same illustration.

“Have you done number four yet? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Let me see.”

You predict their replies with nearly perfect accuracy — because you’ve heard this exact conversation before.

What if it is real? What if you’re trapped in an endless loop like in one of the novels you’d read, where the leading lady has to live the worst day of her life over and over until she figures out how to change it?

You could hardly bear to watch the light leave Bodhi’s eyes in that dream, and so help you gods, you are not going to see it ever again; you’re going to do something about it.

You’d read some theory in a philosophy book once that the flap of a butterfly’s wings can set off a chain of events that cause a hurricane. Would it be safer to stop this exact moment as it happens, or to interrupt now? Or was that dream really just a dream, and today will just be a normal day, or Basgiath’s version of normal, and you’re worrying over nothing?

“I don’t think that’s it. I think that’s the answer to number five, though.”

Those are the words. You’d almost missed them, too concerned about what’s going to happen in the next five seconds, but you should have just enough time if you act now. Sìodha seems to think so too, sending you a flood of urgency and panic.

You tackle Bodhi to the ground, wrapping an arm around his waist and putting a hand behind his head to cushion his fall as you both hit the floor. Your knuckles split on the impact, pain ripping through your hand, but all you can focus on is Bodhi underneath you — his eyes wide with shock, but still blinking up at you, his lips parted in a gasp, but not slick with blood, his heart racing, but not stopping.

There’s a shout from beside you, the clatter of metal against stone, and the sounds of a brief struggle. Dain has the would-be assassin pinned in a matter of seconds, Sawyer helping him restrain her and haul her away, leaving you and Bodhi alone, still tangled up in one another on the floor, his eyes locked with yours.

He finally manages to form words, but not a complete sentence, still stunned. “What… How did you… What?”

“I saw this in a dream last night,” you answer, your voice wavering. “I saw you sitting right here with me, talking to Sawyer. You said that same sentence, and then there was a knife in your chest.”

You look to your right, where it lays on the floor a few feet away — the exact shape and length as the one you’d dreamed of. “That knife.”

Bodhi’s eyes widen even further as he puts it together. “I think that was your signet,” he breathes. “You’re a visionary.”

You finally let go of him, moving to sit by his side on the cold stone of the floor and staring blankly at the dagger. It had missed either of you by at least three feet, but had you acted a second later, or not at all… That doesn’t matter, you suppose. What matters is that Bodhi is alive; that you’d been able to save him, because you’d known what was going to happen and you altered course at the last second.

You should be proud of yourself, but all you can think about is his words to you, and the implications thereof. If this is truly your signet, then you’ll have to watch this kind of thing happen over and over, and likely not just to Bodhi, but to the rest of your friends, too. But what if you can’t stop it next time? What if you see something happen to the twins? They’re a two-hour flight away, and you can’t abandon your post just because you had a dream that something bad happened to them.

Will any of your dreams be just dreams anymore, or are you going to see all manner of terrible things every night for the rest of your life? How are you supposed to distinguish between dreams and reality, between the sleepy inventions of your subconscious, or the magic of your signet?

“I’m sorry, child. It is a powerful gift to have, but it can be quite cruel.”

You can hear Bodhi speaking, likely a thank you and some soft reassurances, but you don’t process the words. You don’t respond to either of them, still not fully convinced that this isn’t another dream.

The warmth of his hand on your arm starts to pull you out of that numbness. “Talk to me, darling.”

“I watched you die,” you whisper. “There was nothing I could do. I just had to hold you, until… I thought it was just a nightmare, but then it started happening in reality, and...”

You shake your head, eyes welling with tears that you try to blink away. You tell yourself that there’s no reason to be crying, no use when he’s standing in front of you, alive, breathing and talking and holding your hand, but you can’t stop the flood of emotion; confusion and relief and horror and several other things you can’t put a name to right now.

“Hey,” he coaxes, “look at me.”

You focus your gaze on him, on those soft brown eyes that still blink at you, the rise and fall of his chest.

“I’m okay,” he says softly, wrapping your hand around his wrist, mindful of your scraped knuckles. He positions your fingertips over his pulse, pressing them into the skin so you can feel the gentle beat of his heart. “I’m alive, because you saved me.”

You nod silently, warm tears slipping down your cheeks.

He gathers you into a warm embrace, rubbing your back in soft, soothing motions. “I’m so sorry you had to see that, my darling girl. But the next time something like that happens, you tell me, okay? I don’t care if you wake me up at three in the morning, I want to be there for you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Good.”

You stay like this for a moment, just sitting with him and finding comfort in the warmth of his touch and the steadiness of his breathing.

“Do you want to go to the healers for your hand, or do you want me to wrap it up for you?”

“Want you to do it,” you answer softly, still feeling a little fragile. You don’t want to be away from him, even for a moment; you might work up the courage to ask if you can sleep in his bed tonight.

“Okay.” He presses a kiss to your temple, getting up to pack your bags.

Dain and Sawyer haven’t returned, likely still in Varrish’s office with the unbonded girl. You scribble a quick note to thank them, and to say that you’re done studying for the afternoon, leaving it on top of Dain’s book.

Bodhi picks up your bag, shouldering it along with his own.

He stops to pick up the dagger, sheathing it at his side, and you blink at him, confused. “You’re keeping it?”

“Of course I’m keeping it. It’s a memento of my first assassination attempt.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Only you could be so proud about someone wanting to kill you.”

He pulls you in closer, tucking you under his arm. “Not nearly as proud as I am of you. You should have seen it. I’ve never seen you move that fast in my life.”

Your cheeks warm in embarrassment, suddenly shy. “I was worried I’d lose you,” you say softly.

“You won’t ever lose me,” he soothes. “We made each other a promise, and I intend to keep it.”

“So do I,” you say quietly. “So do I.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You don’t have any more terrible dreams -- visions -- for the rest of the week, just a generalized sense of anxiety and insomnia, waiting for the next one and wondering what it’ll be, what terrible fate may befall one of your friends.

Each day that passes simultaneously soothes your anxiety and stokes it. If you aren’t dreaming of any terrible things, then they won’t happen, but what if you don’t dream them? What if you can’t see harm coming to them in advance, and thus can’t prevent it?

As soon as you enter the gym for Emeterrio’s class, it hits you again; that incredibly strong sense that something very bad is going to happen, very soon.

Bodhi sees your posture change, your normal relaxed and graceful presence tightening uncomfortably, and puts it together immediately, looking at you with concern.

“I have that feeling again,” you manage, forcing down the acid rising in your throat. “But this time, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“It’ll be okay,” he soothes.

“You don’t know that,” you reply, still looking around, surveying the gym for anyone that could pose a threat to you or any of your friends, which happens to be every single person in the room.

He takes your hand, and the feeling stops; vanishes completely, as if it was never there. Bodhi’s presence and his gentle touch have always been a comfort to you, often the only comfort you have, but nothing like that has ever happened before, a relief so intense and sudden.

Your gaze snaps to him, eyes widening. “How did you…”

He lets go, and the anxiety and nausea comes back in a tidal wave that nearly knocks you over. He lays a hand on your back to steady you, worried you’ll collapse, and the feeling dissipates again in the blink of an eye. Definitely not a coincidence.

“I think you turned it off,” you whisper. “When you let go, it came back.”

He blinks at you for a few seconds, processing. “Do you think that’s…”

“Laurent and Daneel,” Emeterrio calls.

Oh. That’s what you’re supposed to be worried about.

“Deep breath,” Bodhi prompts.

You inhale as deeply as you can before he moves his hand off of your back, and you aren’t hit with another tidal wave, just a normal, manageable level of anxiety appropriate for someone about to start a challenge match.

But as you step onto the mat, the anxiety fades into… something new. Confidence, like nothing you’ve ever felt before -- like you know you’re going to win this fight, without question, like it’s already been written down in the professor’s gradebook, and carved into history.

Interesting.

You lower your head to your opponent in respectful acknowledgement, getting a snarl in response. Well, then. Maybe this will be harder than you’d thought -- but you still have that unshakeable feeling that you’re going to come out on top.

She makes the first move, a punch that you’re able to dodge easily. She tries again -- and you step to the side without thinking, avoiding the blow by a few inches.

You continue dodging and blocking, reacting naturally, almost subconsciously, not even thinking about your movements.

You feel the same strange feeling you’d felt during the conversation leading up to Bodhi’s would-be assassination; you’d known all the words, knew what was going to happen because you’d seen it in a dream -- only you don’t remember dreaming any of this at all. It had been a total surprise that your name would be called with hers, the intense anxiety you’d felt being the only indicator, and even then, you’d been worried that it would be one of your friends in danger, not yourself.

Very interesting.

A slow smile spreads across your face as you realize exactly what is happening -- this is your signet at work, that familiar hum of power through your veins as you move, keeping you a few seconds ahead of everyone else in the room.

“You’ve had your fun,” Sìoda nudges, sounding amused. “Now end this, and end it well.”

The girl agrees. “Come on, you filthy fucking traitor! Fight me already!”

There’s a collective intake of breath from the quadrant as they wait for you to respond -- every eye in the gym is watching you, even the other cadets that are supposed to be fighting across the room, but you don’t move, don’t react to the comment, preparing for what’s going to happen next.

She hurls a dagger at you, enraged by your lack of engagement in this fight -- and your hand flies up to catch it, your fingers wrapping around the hilt and stopping it in midair.

Silence. Absolute dead silence.

You examine it for a second before you tuck it into your belt, looking back up at her. “Let’s fight, then.”

#bodhi and darling #bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #mine #fourth wing fanfic

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just-jordie-things · 1 year ago

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[part fifteen] to build a home - gojo satoru

word count: 5.8k warnings: !!manga spoilers!! swearing, jjk-verse style fighting series summary: when (y/n) (y/l/n) catches wind that the notorious sorcerer killer, toji fushiguro, has children, she makes it her personal mission to find them. the catch being she couldn't tell a soul about them- the risk of the zen'in clan learning about them was too great. keeping the secret isn't the hard part, it's lying to her friends, shoko ieiri, geto suguru, and of course gojo satoru, that she struggles with. especially when satoru has suddenly become so keen on keeping an eye on her lately.

series masterlist

[part fifteen] : “The Whole Truth”

___

She’d been in this room before, more times than she could count on both hands, but standing here now, (y/n) suddenly is overwhelmed with the anxiety that she’s invaded a very private space. Despite the fact that she was asked to come in, despite the fact that she’s there with one of her oldest friends- if she could still consider him that- when she’s standing before him, she’s overcome with the urge to find an excuse to leave.

Her fingers curl around the paper bag that’s still in her hands, the parting gift she’d gotten for him, and she comes back to earth for long enough to extend it to him.

“I got you mochi,” She says softly. Satoru takes the bag to inspect its contents. “From that place you like that’s always way too busy”

Still holding the bag open, Sartoru’s eyes slide upwards, peering over the top of his sunglasses questioningly, already feeling a motive behind the random gift.

“So busy you had to wait overnight?” He questions, and (y/n) frowns.

“I picked them up this morning,” She says, the previously level tone she’d kept her voice at dropping, just enough to let him know that his comment irritated her. “So they’d be fresh”

Satoru nods, before rolling the top of the paper bag shut and setting it on his desk. (y/n) doesn’t say a word as he lets out a huff, his peace clearly disturbed by her already, before he leans back against his door and crosses his arms.

“What’s this all about then?” He asks, in an uncharacteristically bored tone. “Is it an apology..?” He shakes his head as though he couldn’t fathom the idea. “Because I don’t need an explanation, I’ve heard enough-”

“Satoru, I don’t want to-”

“Fight?” He finishes her thought with a scoff, a bitter laugh escaping him before he looks over her again, her nervous stance, her tired features. His annoyance quickly burns into something uglier. “I mean, was it worth it?”

(y/n) blinks in surprise, and hearing the same question that Suguru had asked her just a few weeks ago has her blood running cold. What a bitter feeling of deja vu.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” She says quietly, ducking her head so that she didn’t have to look at him while she spoke. “And… and I don’t expect you to forgive me. I know I wouldn’t,”

That has Satoru’s muscles relaxing, and he doesn’t cut her off this time when she speaks. He lets curiosity get the best of him as he hears her out.

“But I… I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t even try to tell you how sorry I am before…” She trails off, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip to keep her from saying too much.

Her throat feels like someone had just poured lighter fluid down it and dropped a match.

Satoru leans off the door then, his head cocked and his eyebrow arched as he tries to fill in the blanks she’d left.

“Before what?” He asks.

(y/n’s) eyes nervously meet his but it’s fleeting before she turns away again, this time fixing her gaze on a single photo taped to his wall. It displayed all four of them, having a picnic during their first year.

For a brief moment, she’s transported to the memory, remembering the way Shoko had giggled as she held out the camera, her face barely in the shot but the peace sign she held her fingers in front and center. Satoru has his arm slung around Suguru’s neck, pulling him into view as they both grin wide. He has his other arm wrapped around (y/n’s) middle, forcing her to be in the photo as well. She remembered trying to scramble away before Shoko could snap the shot, and how tight but not uncomfortable Satoru’s hold on her had been. She remembers squealing as she tried prying his arm off her, but in the picture, it looks like she’s grinning happily, clutching his arm almost lovingly. It looks like she not only gives into his hold, but embraces it.

It brings a sad smile to her face now, and she wonders if she had embraced it, no matter how hard she tried to tell everyone she didn’t.

“(y/n),” Satoru steps forward, jarring her thoughts as she whips her attention back to him. “Before what?” He repeats his question.

Her lips part, an excuse writing itself on her tongue, but she can’t bring herself to say it. In the grand scheme of things, one more lie meant nothing. Satoru already thought so little of her that it wouldn’t matter how much more damage she could create.

But she just couldn’t do it.

“I’m…” Her voice fails her, and she clears her throat before trying again. “I’m leaving”

Her voice still cracks when she says it, but she tries to maintain eye contact so that he knows she meant it. This wasn’t another act of deceit, which he believed it to be as the words first processed in his mind, but the longer he stares at her and sees that her expression is unwavering, the more he realizes she had meant it.

He would have preferred another lie.

“No you aren’t” He says in disbelief, hoping, praying she’d finally fucking learned how to lie and he could call her bluff.

(y/n) nods her head in a small motion.

“Yes, I am,” She says softly. “I just wanted to try to make things right before I-”

“No- no, you’re fucking explaining yourself this time,” Satoru cuts her off, his arms falling from their defensive stance over his chest. “You don’t get to just- fuck- are you quitting? Is this about Suguru?”

That seemed to catch her attention, as her face fell as she shook her head adamantly.

“No,” The word comes out solid, and it’s the loudest she’s spoken since she’d come into his room, even though she still hasn’t reached a normal speaking volume. “It’s not about him, at least, not entirely. It certainly hasn’t helped-”

“Then why? Why do you have to go?” He asks, his words coming out in such a rush they almost slur together. “Where are you going? What is this about?”

“I…” She wants to explain herself, but there’s nothing for her to say. “Satoru, I can’t…”

It’s quiet for a moment, while he hopes she could just find the words to tell him, to help him understand why she’d been pulling away so much, why it had brought her to the point of leaving entirely. He waits, impatiently so, while his eyes search hers desperately for some kind of reasoning.

After a minute, it dawns on him that she won’t explain it to him. Even now, she won’t tell him the full truth. He wants to hate her for giving him scraps of clues of what’s been going on in her world, he wants to tell her off, tell her to leave just as she’d told him.

But just as she can’t tell him the whole truth in fear of hurting him, he can’t tell her to leave in fear of hurting her. It was a vicious cycle they had been putting themselves through.

A thought comes creeping up in his head, and he doesn’t want to speak it into existence, but he does anyway. If she really was leaving, he might as well try to uncover the truth.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” He asks, quietly, afraid that it was the truth. “The Zen’ins?”

(y/n) fights the urge to show any expression of emotion, but it’s not enough. Satoru is quicker, and catches the flicker of recognition in her eyes. He’d guessed correctly.

“What is it then?” He asks dejectedly. “They’re moving you into their weird fucking compound of a house? Are they arranging your marriage? You’re just going to skip along and follow their old, backwards lifestyle? Do you really want that?”

He gets carried away rather quickly, the reality of the situation hitting him the longer he thinks about what her life would become if she really did go down that path.

(y/n’s) breathing is rapidly increasing, and she realizes that no matter what she’d done, if she’d continued with the lie or admitted the truth, Satoru was always going to be hurt. Tears prick her eyes as she tries to come up with a solution that would put him at ease, at least until she flees first thing in the morning.

When she doesn’t say anything, Satoru takes quick steps forward to close the remaining space between them. (y/n) has to tilt her head up to look at him properly, her eyes wide at the sudden action.

This was the part where he told her everything he’d said in her nightmare, she thinks as she stares up at him. This is all your fault. This is what you deserve.

He’d meant to tell her that this was her mistake to make, that he wouldn’t stop her if she went through with it, even if he found it ridiculously foolish. But then he got a good look at her, at the way she was holding back her tears, even in her physical exhaustion, she fought the will to cry.

And Satoru softened.

He pauses before her, and everything around them pauses for a moment as he kept watch of those eyes he’d been staring at for years. He’d seen every flicker of emotion one could in them. He’d seen the way they brightened when she smiled, how they crinkled when she laughed, how she looked when she was surprised, or angry, and he’d seen them sad before, too.

But he’d never seen them helpless.

And although everything she’d been saying had been in an effort to push him away, there was something swimming in those irises that was trying to communicate something else entirely. She was lost.

With a sigh, Satoru pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. Not caring that they got tangled in his hair.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He huffs, and (y/n) blinks in surprise at the affectionate nickname. “What’s going on?

She blinks again, but she keeps her lips sealed shut. Even if she tried to speak, she’d be a sputtering mess.

“You know…” He speaks carefully, making sure to pick just the right words. “You know that you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to, right?” The question comes out in a whisper, as though there were prying ears to hide from. “And if you need help-”

“It’s not like that”

Just as she suspected, her voice comes out in a strained whimper. Satoru frowns.

“You’re crying,” He states the obvious. “And you’re telling me that you’re leaving but you’re still not telling me why”

“Because I can’t,” (y/n) speaks again, and this time is no better. “I just can’t, okay? I’m sorry-”

“Well you’re going to have to,” He says decidedly, his hands wrapping around her shoulders. “Because something isn’t adding up, and I can’t just let you go when you’re like this,”

Against her will, a tear slips down her cheek as she looks up at him. She shudders as she takes a deep breath.

“Please, (y/n/n),” He says softly, “Who’s done this to you? Who’s hurt you?”

Another shudder rattles through her as she tries to breathe normally, and she curses him internally when a warm hand touches her cheek, wiping away the stray tear and bringing her an undeserved amount of comfort.

“I… I can’t,” She mumbles, closing her eyes as she draws her face away from him, before she steps away from him altogether. “I can’t bring you into it” She finishes, her voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru shakes his head, filling the distance she’d tried to put between them.

“Well it’s too late for that, so you may as well tell me anyways,” He says, trying to sound comforting, and he has no idea just how much she longed to be comforted by him.

She drops her head so that she couldn’t be tempted by him again.

“(y/n),” He tries to bring her to look at him again, but she won’t. Hesitantly, he reaches his hands out to her, his fingers grazing over her knuckles. “I won’t know rest until I know you do,” He admits. “So I’m begging you, okay?”

She sniffles, and closes her eyes tighter while his fingers carefully wrap around hers.

“I can’t hurt you anymore” Her voice still shakes, and Satoru doesn’t know how much more of this his heart could take.

His resentment towards her these last few weeks had been washed away so easily by his overwhelming need to protect her, and he’s never felt so strongly about doing so until this moment.

This wasn’t how he’d seen her cry before. This wasn’t how she’d behaved when Haibara Yu had passed. This wasn’t how she’d behaved in her desperate rage to push him away. This wasn’t her. He knew deep down something was terribly wrong, and he didn’t care what it was, he just wanted to make it go away. He just wanted her to be herself again, to be okay, to be happy.

“You won’t,” He murmurs, still unsure if it was a lie. “You won’t,” He repeats himself with fervor. “There’s nothing you could tell me that would hurt me, sweetheart, okay? So just… just tell me what he’s done, and I’ll fix it”

(y/n) looks up at him then, realizing now that Shoko must have filled in the gaps of her lies between them, and that Satoru truly does believe she’s gotten into trouble with a suitor of some sort from the Zen’in Clan. Any thought of lying through her teeth escapes her mind, as she looks at him now, all she can find in his eyes is pure honesty.

He’s serious, and it’s almost tangible before her. She fears that he really would do anything to put her at ease, and she fears that she would do the same for him.

She fears that she’s in this situation because she’d tried to do the same for him.

She doesn’t know why, she doesn’t understand the feeling, but she chases it, in hopes that it would guide her to do right by him.

“I’m not seeing someone from the Zen’in Clan”

It’s the clearest she’s spoken in a few minutes, but Satoru hesitates as though he still had to make out what she’d said. (y/n) doesn’t blame him. She’s just as surprised by herself as he is.

“You’re not?” He mumbles in disbelief, his brows drawing together in a confused knot.

“I’m not,” She whispers back. “I… I never was” She adds with a small shrug of her shoulder.

Satoru blinks a few times, his eyes flickering between hers, just to be sure that she was once again telling the truth. He doesn’t find an ounce of insincerity on her, but it still doesn’t bring him much comfort.

Suddenly, his hands are squeezing around hers, and he’s bringing them to his chest, holding them close as though the action alone could convince her to stay. (y/n) almost stumbles from the action, but catches her footing before she could fall into him.

“Then why are you leaving?” He asks the nagging question on his mind.

Her tears threaten to spill over her lashes, and her hesitation tells him she still isn’t ready to give him the full truth. She tries to think about Megumi, about Tsumiki, and everything she was going to do to ensure their safety.

“There must be a reason if you’re going to put yourself through this much trouble,” He voices his thoughts while (y/n) tries to blink her tears away. “What is it, sweetheart? You have to tell me”

“Sa-toru,” She chokes on his name, her eyes falling shut as a last ditch effort to keep all of her tears from falling. She tries to pull her hands out of his, but he keeps them in a firm grasp, and she doesn’t have the will to snatch them back. “I just can’t- please, please forgive me,”

She hiccups, and closes her eyes tighter, even though she can feel wetness racing down her cheeks.

“I just have to protect you, I can protect all of you, but you have- you have to let me-” She’s cut off by another hiccup, and when she opens her eyes again all of the tears she’d tried to hold back are streaming down her face. “I know it’s not fair, but it’s the only way I can keep you safe”

Satoru’s eyes blink wide in surprise, his brain desperately trying to connect the dots, trying to figure out who she’s talking about, who she’s protecting, and from what?

He doesn’t rush to ask her these questions, instead he shushes her gently, and brings her over to his bed so she could take a seat. She wants to fight him, but she doesn’t.

“Alright,” He hums, releasing one of her hands so he could catch her tears against his finger, flicking them away before they could stain her cheeks. “Alright sweetheart, let’s start slow, alright?”

She shakes her head, unwilling to drag him down with her. Satoru tries again anyway.

“There’s nothing you could do to jeopardize my safety, okay?” He tells her, wishing she’d look up at him. When she doesn’t, he hooks his finger under her chin and gently lifts her head so she could see he meant it. “Okay?” He asks again.

(y/n) lets out a shaky breath, and her eyes fall from his, landing on his throat. She takes a few more breaths before finding her voice again.

“You’ve been hurt by my mistakes before,” She whispers.

He’s certain he couldn’t have heard her right, but he doesn’t try to speak over her.

Her eyes don’t move as she continues.

“I just can’t hurt you again,” She sighs. “I’ve done it too much and… and it hurts me too” She admits the last part in a voice that barely reached a whisper, but he hears her clear as day.

“I understand,” He hums. “But you have to understand that I can’t ignore this anymore, (y/n). Whatever this is, it’s killing you. And I can’t just let that happen”

“I had a chance to kill Fushiguro Toji,”

Her voice is raw, sore from her crying, strained from her whispering, but she forces herself to speak anyways.

“The day we were sent after Riko Amanai,” (y/n) continues, still staring at the spot on his throat where he’d shown her Toji’s blade had cut clean through. “When we parted ways that day, I ran into him,”

Satoru hung onto her every word, wondering where she could possibly be going with this, and why she hadn’t told him sooner. Although so far, the truth didn’t seem too harmful, there was a nagging pull on his heart that led him to believe somewhere, sometime, things had gone completely wrong.

“Just by accident,” (y/n) continued, shrugging her shoulders in thought. “Or maybe it was fate, I don’t know what led me to him that day, but…”

Finally, her eyes flickered up to his, and she swallowed the remaining lump in her throat before speaking again.

“I overheard a conversation he was having, on the phone,”

Satoru nods, understanding the story so far, while he waits patiently for her to continue.

“He mentioned… he mentioned children,” (y/n) said through a shaky exhale of breath. “And I just… I just had to follow him, I had to learn more, I don’t know why, but it just nagged at me, and I…”

She turns her head, her eyes landing on that photo on the wall again as she thinks back to that day. The way she felt in the beginning of this all, desperately searching for Megumi and Tsumiki like their lives, her life, depended on it. And now, because of her, they did.

Satoru watched her as she stared at the photo for a long moment, trying to collect her thoughts. He was on the edge of his seat, but he didn’t say anything to rush her into explaining further.

He looked down at the hand that still sat in his, limp and clammy from her nerves. He squeezed it gently before running the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand.

(y/n) looked back at him right away, almost jolted by the small gesture, but Satoru kept his focus on the small motion of comfort.

“He had children,” She whispers out the truth like it was a damning piece of information. “Two children. Young. A girl, and a boy”

When Satoru finally meets her gaze again, she’s no longer crying, but she’s still giving him that hopeless look, as though she’d done something terrible that she couldn’t take back.

“That’s where you were when you disappeared that weekend?” He finally spoke after listening to her so intently. (y/n) chewed on her lip as she slowly nodded her head.

“I followed him but I… I lost him..” Her eyes trailed back down to his throat, and now he understood what she’d been staring at.

She’d been watching the place on his throat where Toji had stabbed him that day. Oh, he realizes, all too slowly, she blamed herself. As soon as he puts the pieces together, he squeezes her hand again, as though requesting her attention again.

“That wasn’t your fault”

“I could have-”

“That wasn’t your fault”

“But I was there”

“(y/n),” Satoru’s voice is firm now, and she snaps her mouth shut. “You couldn’t have known,” He tells her, sure of every word he spoke. “There was nothing that you could have done differently to prevent it. There was nothing I could have done differently to prevent it,”

She sighs, her eyes falling to her lap as that dreaded feeling of uselessness washed over her.

“And need I remind you, I’m fine?” He adds, pulling her hand upwards, gently laying it at the base of his throat while keeping his palm over her hand. “Just a little mark,” He whispers while (y/n’s) eyes linger on the spot.

This must be his most vulnerable spot, she thinks, after what happened, no matter what he says, he must have some trauma from the incident. And yet, he lowers his infinity, and lets her rest her trembling fingers there.

Her eyes meet his unsurely.

“I need you to believe me when I say it’s not your fault”

“Okay,” She whispers back. “Then I need you to believe me when I tell you I have to go”

Satoru shakes his head, his fingers curling around hers again, dropping her hand from his throat and against his leg.

“I can’t do that, sweetheart” He sighs.

“Why?” She whispers back, her eyes flickering between his, trying to figure out why it was he cared so much about this. “I’m… I’m going to do a terrible thing tomorrow”

Satoru raises a curious brow.

“Is that so?”

She nods back at him, frowning.

“It will be unforgivable,” She whispers. “But I don’t have a choice,” Her voice cracks again, but this time it’s just the reality of her situation crushing down on her. “I can’t lose them”

“Lose who, sweetheart?” Satoru asks, his brows furrowing now, as he was missing a vital piece of information she hadn’t shared yet.

“I found them,” She whispered, almost gravely. “I found Fushiguro Toji’s children”

The confession processes slowly, and then all at once, and (y/n) watches as he begins to put all the pieces together in real time.

Those children weren’t just poor abandoned things left to live their days out in some broken, unjust system society deemed charitable. No, they weren’t your average non-curse users. They were property. Valuable property.

They were Zen’in property. And it was only a matter of time before the clan would come to collect them.

“I see,” Satoru hums. “So you…”

“I’ve been sneaking off campus for eight months to take care of them” (y/n) whispers.

Every time he caught her in an odd lie, every time she’d go missing as soon as classes were out, the tutoring, the dodging of plans, it all came flooding back to him now, in a completely different light.

“Oh…” He mumbles, leaning back slightly as he was still processing it all.

“Yeah,” (y/n) sighs, hanging her head. “They’ve sent a notice that they’ll be collecting the boy, Megumi. His cursed technique has begun to manifest… just like Zen’ins to care when there’s enough power involved”

“What is it?” Satoru mumbles, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor.

“Ten shadows” (y/n) answers, also refusing to look at him.

Fuck.

Satoru runs his free hand over his face, trying to come up with a solution and fast, because he didn’t know how much time they had to keep him from the Zen’in’s greedy clutches.

“I’m to bring him to them tomorrow,” (y/n) says. “They don’t have an interest in the girl, she was born a non-curse user. And the two can’t bear to be split apart so…” She trails off, nervously looking Satoru’s way. “So I’m going tomorrow to… make my case”

“Make your case?”

Satoru repeats the words back to her in disbelief, because he knows just as well as she does that the Zen’in Clan don’t just hear people out. They’ll take what’s theirs by whatever means necessary, and if she went to them tomorrow then-

Fuck.

It hits him then as he looks back at her, her glossed over eyes and frowning lips, he knows exactly why she’d come to tell him goodbye.

“No, you’re not-”

“I have to”

“(y/n) that’s a death sentence” Satoru stands up from the bed now, her hand falling from his as he stands before her. Her expression doesn’t falter, not once.

“I’m not losing them” She tells him, clearly, and he knows she means it, but he can’t possibly accept this.

“And that cost is your life?” He raises his voice, although he tries not to yell, he can’t help it as it all sinks into his veins, the situation she’s in.

Why couldn’t she have come to him sooner?

He begins to pace in front of her. (y/n) remains calmly sat before him, letting him process however he needed to. As much as it had hurt, she’d made her peace with it all. It’s simply what she had to do.

“It doesn’t matter how much you train yourself to death, (y/n), if you walk in there tomorrow with any malicious intent, they’ll strike you down. They’re an entire clan, (y/n), do you understand that?”

“I do” She whispers with a small nod of her head.

He shakes his head at her, his hands on his hips as he huffs and moves about the room sporadically.

“No, you can’t possibly understand it, because you wouldn’t just be sitting here right now-!”

“Satoru,” She calls his name softly, and while her voice is much smaller than his, he quiets immediately. “I do understand,” She tells him with another nod. “I love them,”

His features fall, softening as he sees her small smile begin to break through a painfully hurt exterior.

“I do. I love them so much. And I won’t let anything hurt them for the rest of their lives,” She tells him while he’s still frozen in front of her. “So I have to go. I have everything prepared, I’ve left them as much money as I can, a few cursed tools I’ve given them and hidden in their house that I’ve imbued with my cursed energy to protect them even if I…” She trails off, not wanting to admit the dark fate that would be in store for her come tomorrow. “But now that you know, can you promise me something?”

Satoru doesn’t answer, still stuck in front of her, hearing her horrid confession play on repeat in his head. She was really planning on this? She really was going to go through with this?

“Promise me you’ll keep an eye out for them?” She asks, and no matter how much she tries to keep her breaths even, he can hear the shakiness in the exhale she lets out. “You don’t have to watch their every move but… just make sure they’re safe, here and there?”

Her brows draw together as she stares at him with utter hope. She knows that she doesn’t deserve a favor from him, after everything she’s put him through, but if she had to, she’d beg him to make sure her kids were safe when she’s gone.

The room is silent for a few beats, before slowly, Satoru kneels himself to the ground before her, bringing himself to her eye level. (y/n) stares at him steadily, and he’s close enough that she longs to reach out, to hold him by his jaw and make him swear he’d do her one last favor.

“You’re not doing this,” He tells her, quietly. “I can’t let you”

“I have to”

“You don’t”

“I don’t have another choice,” She’s quicker with her words, more decided, unwavering in her choice. “The Zen’ins, they sent men to the house this morning, to intimidate me, or scope out the area, I don’t know. But they aren’t just going to back down now. They’re going to take Megumi whether I try to stop them or not”

“We’ll think of something else” Satoru says surely.

“There’s no time,” (y/n) whispers back. “Tomorrow I’ll put as strong of a curtain over their house as I possibly can and then I’ll go face Zen’in Naobito myself,” She tells him her plan in hopes that he would accept this was her final decision. “So I… I need you to promise me you’ll check in on them”

Satoru’s eyes don’t leave hers as she says this, and he can see that she means every last word. He’d never pegged (y/n) as someone to have the stomach for cold blooded murder, but he can see now that something had changed, and the love she had for these children would drive her to do anything to protect them.

“You’ll die” He whispers back, knowing that she’s well aware.

(y/n) musters up the courage to give him a small smile, although it still carries the weight of her sadness, it is genuine. She only hopes to bring him some semblance of comfort in knowing that this was her decision and hers alone, and that she’d found solace in it.

“Promise me,” Is all she replies with, followed by an even softer, “Please”

Was mochi supposed to make up for all of this? Satoru wonders as his eyes flicker between hers.

While he’s sitting here fighting the urge to completely break down in front of her, she was trying to convince him that she was okay with this plan, that throwing herself into the wolf’s den in the name of love was her only choice. He wants to tell her she’s completely deluded, that he’d chain her down and keep her here if he had to in order to keep her from making the sacrificing play. And a part of him knows that he would really do it.

Satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath and tries to run through every possibility on how this could end. He doesn’t like what he comes up with.

“Satoru,” (y/n) calls softly, and when he looks up at her again, her hand is hesitating over his shoulder. It takes her a minute before she lays it there, and she lets out a deep sigh before speaking again. “I’m sorry,”

Her eyes follow the trail of a single tear slipping down his cheek, and she has to remind herself why she has to do this.

“If by some miracle I live, I’ll send you a postcard” She means to jest, but her voice is too soft, and the way her eyebrows sink as her eyes meet his again tells him she barely believes her own words.

Her hand falls from his shoulder as she stands from the bed, and Satoru’s quick to get up to his feet too, stopping her before she could leave.

“Stay,” He says before he can think of something better to say. “Don’t go yet, stay, please, let’s think of a better plan, together, okay?”

He’s rushing through his words again, desperate to keep her here long enough that he alone could solve all of it for her.

(y/n) opens her mouth, no doubt to protest, but Satoru cuts her off before she could even start.

“Let me help you,” He pleads, stepping closer to her, leaving little to no space between them. Her eyes noticeably widen at this, but she remains silent. “You didn’t have my help before, I could get you out of this, we can come up with a way to keep the kids and you safe, okay?”

She’s frowning at him, but she doesn’t walk away from him either, so Satoru thinks he has a chance at making her cave.

“Please?” His hands grab onto hers, the action harsher than it had been before, desperate, even. “Please, (y/n), I just can’t accept this. You can’t do this… not without at least talking about it first, okay?”

(y/n) ducks her head and slowly begins to pull her hands out of his, although she longed to stand there with him holding them for the rest of time, as he’d always reminded her that she would never find comfort in another person the way she felt it with him. She knows that if she stays any longer, then she’ll never leave.

And it was the right thing to walk away, right?

Satoru lets her pull her hands back to her stomach where she could wring them together as some form of control over her nerves. He doesn’t mind that she tries to pull away from him, because he’s quicker.

When she feels the warmth of two palms resting on either side of her face, lifting her head so she’d look at him properly, (y/n) knows right away that she wouldn’t be walking away anytime soon.

Satoru’s hands are warm, smooth, and no matter where they are on her they still bring her that same blanket of comfort. They’re so delicately firm, cupped around her face to keep her looking at him. They’re so solidly gentle that she couldn’t break away from them if she wanted to.

She already knows her answer as soon as he speaks, although she can’t quite explain how she folds so easily, she decides to blame it on her overwhelming physical and mental exhaustion.

“Stay”

___

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xoxo ~ jordie

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